Portraits
by Gloria Stone
Summary: One knows the truth and the other is the light to show the way. She found him, saved him, and is repairing him. Was it the right thing to do? There is no right, No black and white, only gray Bonecrusher/Mikeala
1. gotta be insane

Okay… so she was insane.

Suicidal, crazy, stupid and totally messed up.

Back in the days when she had been in trouble, Mikaela had been forced to do community service. Some of those services included trips to mental hospitals to play games and stuff with the residents. Not the violent kind of patients… but nut jobs, nevertheless.

She now knew without a doubt she'd surpassed them all in craziness. She was taking crazy to a whole new level.

"I'm back," she said loudly, her voice echoing off the walls.

With a grunt, she dropped a very large and heavy toolbox on the ground. The echoing clank sounded extremely loud in the pressing silence that had followed her sentence.

She picked up a rag, using it to try and clean the grease and grime off her hands. Her nails looked like shit. She paused, studying them. Not long ago, a little over 3 months, Mikaela had been careful with her nails. It was part of the role she played, but not anymore. She could care less now, and the same could be said about her clothes. Long gone were the tight shirts and little skirts, and in their place were a comfortable pair of overalls with a plain red shirt, both stained in oil.

She suddenly smiled as she tossed the shop rag onto an old, beat up coffee table. She still couldn't believe it; even 3 months after the fact, it still stunned her.

She was in a garage. HER garage, actually. It wasn't the normal kind of garage that most think about when the word comes up. It wasn't something one parked their cars in, attached to cute, little pink houses with flowers in front.

_Like Sam's house. _She shook her head, dismissing the thought before it soured her mood.

No, this was a worker's garage, and the large metal building was beautiful to her. Tools were lined up on the walls exactly how she liked them, and an air compressor the size of a Buick stood out back, insulated so the noise didn't drive her crazy. Her wonderful shop sat on fifteen acres of land, most of it densely wooded, just outside of Indianapolis. It even had a creek that drained into a large pond.

Mikaela smiled as it all made her heart sing. This was her reward.

She had done a lot to earn it. Maybe not as much as Sam, but she had helped to save the lives of Will and his men. The Government --or rather Secretary Keller-- didn't forget that.

It had come as a surprise when she had received a phone call three weeks after Mission City. She hadn't recognized the voice, but the man had pretty much asked her what she wanted. New car? New house? College education? All she had to do was ask.

Sam had gone for the education, with the prospect of more if he joined the Army like he had hinted at. His future was looking bright. A Hero like the Earth had never seen.

_I bet it was him that told them I deserved something, too, _her mind betrayed her by whispering softly. Rubbing her temple, Mikaela forced herself to think happy thoughts.

She had been stunned silent by the offer. College?

She had never really had a choice before. Her family was too poor, and while Mikaela got good grades, they weren't enough to get a free ride. She had always allowed herself to drift off when teachers starting talking about the next step.

College?

It was a defining moment in her life. A door to the future had opened before her, a door she hadn't even known was there. She could almost see the light shining brightly from the other side. A world, a life she had never considered until that moment.

The decision had been surprisingly easy.

She had said no. College just wasn't for her; it was something for kids like Sam. He was the smart one, the talented one, and his future was so very bright that it almost hurt to look at him. Mikaela knew without a doubt that with Sam's courage and personality, he would continue to do great things. Saving the world wasn't the peak of his life, it was merely the beginning.

And she… well, she was just a pretty face that could rebuild an engine.

It had hit her then. Perhaps she had always known it, but had denied herself for fear of what her so-called friends and Trent would say. She was a mechanic. A grease monkey, just like her father.

She had spoken then, telling the surprised man on the phone exactly what she wanted, and he had been happy to help. After all, even with the acreage, a fully loaded shop was still cheaper than several years of college.

At first Mikaela had considering opening her new shop in Tranquility, where she would be close to Sam and the Autobots. But no… the desire to leave was still too strong. She hated Tranquility, hated the small town feeling and the gossip and the people that didn't let a girl out of a stereotypical role. She felt trapped in that town. Even though she had broken up with Trent and was avoiding her friends, it still felt like a prison to her.

And so she had made a radical decision once everything was set up. She quit school, said goodbye to Sam and left.

Sitting down heavily in an overstuffed recliner, Mikaela sighed. No matter what, her thoughts always kept going back to Sam. It had been hard, so very hard, to leave him. It had hurt and burned and tore at her chest.

She loved him. He was someone who saw her for who she was and liked her anyway. He was everything a girl could want, but… he just wasn't for her. Like she said before, his future was so bright. She couldn't bring herself to hold him down. She was just a mechanic, after all.

He had been hurt, too, but Mikaela had seen understanding in his eyes. She hadn't said why and he hadn't asked, but somehow he had known the reason.

Her mother had freaked when her only daughter had taken off for Indiana. Mikaela suspected she was more upset that Mikaela was opening a car shop than over quitting school. They hadn't spoken since Mikaela had called to explain.

Despite all the sadness, however, Mikaela found herself happier here than she had ever been in Tranquility. She had a shop and a small house by the pond, and she was quickly gaining customers. Indianapolis was a good city, clean compared to most its size, and filled with good people. Even if they were a little Peyton Manning nuts.

Standing back up, Mikaela stretched. The day was over. All the cars had been sent home and she was alone.

Sort of.

She still had some work to do, though. Work that was extremely hard and challenging… AND the reason she questioned her sanity.

"Alright, ready for another night?" she called out, grabbing her tools.

"You mean torture session, right?" a gruff voice boomed through the shop.

Mikaela felt the hairs on her arms stand up, like they always did. His voice was down right scary sounding; too deep, with that metallic grate all the transformers had.

Mikaela forced a smile as she made her way back toward the 'restricted section' of her shop. It looked like an office from the outside, but inside was totally different. For one, it was actually larger than the shop itself, although it was cleverly hidden as it had been partly dug into the hillside behind the shop. And for another, it held the bruised and battered remains of one very large robot.

"Come on. Torture's such a strong word." The voice scoffed at her, and she frowned. "Well, do YOU know how to turn off your pain receptors?"

She closed the door behind her. Of course, she already knew the answer to this question. There wasn't a way to turn them off. The best they could do was offline the mech, but he simply refused to allow that. There was the trust issue (lack of), but there was also the problem that Mikaela had never worked on a Cybertronian before.

And as it turned out, the mech currently in her shop just happened to be a medic of sorts. Not a true medic, like Ratchet, but he had told her he did most of the repairs for the injured. Something about it being in his nature to build as well as destroy.

"Alright, Crush. Are we going to work on the arm again tonight?" Mikaela asked, walking toward the giant without fear. The arm in question was partly disassembled, looking more like a gutted out car than something on a living being. Kneeling down, Mikaela dug through the mess of wires. She needed to see what had fixed itself over the day and what she still needed to help along.

Bonecrusher made a low sound of pain, the wires twitching in her hands.

"Sorry," she said softly, gently pulling some twisted wires apart. She grimaced at the melted mess. She would have to clip and splice several of them. She had hoped his repair systems would fix it and save him the gut-wrenching pain.

"So, other than the obvious…" Mikaela began, grinning at him. She usually tried to talk to Bonecrusher while she did the repairs or --as he put it-- tortured him. Bonecrusher wasn't a quiet bot and Mikaela could usually distract him somewhat during the more painful moments. "How are you feeling?"

A single red optic twitched as he slowly turned his head to look at her. "As you flesh bags say; like shit."

Mikaela nodded and cut a wire. Bonecrusher tensed; a high-pitched blast of static escaping his mouth. She quickly twisted the wire and reconnected it, minus the horrible burned and melted part. Mikaela hadn't been great with rewiring before, but ever since she had started this, her ability had been improving by leaps and bounds. Now she could do complex wiring in minutes rather than hours.

Within a few agonizing minutes she had finished, pausing to let the mech 'catch his breath.' Bonecrusher relaxed after a moment, and some sort of fan turned on inside his body. She could hear him taking in air to cool internal parts, which she had learned was a sign of intense distress… a.k.a. PAIN.

"You okay?"

Bonecrusher answered with a low, grinding sound, sort of like the growling of an angry dog.

"Okay… no, then."

Mikaela sat down on the concrete floor and brushed her hair back, studying all the wounds as well as the healed sections. When she had first started to fix him, he had had a huge hole in his head. She had heard the reports given and knew that Optimus had shoved a large blade through it. Luckily for the mech, however, his more important cranial parts had somehow survived.

Those first few days had been rough. Bonecrusher had been barely conscious; in some sort of state he called stasis lock. He couldn't talk very well and they had trouble communicating, so most of the repairs on his head were totally her work. Unfortunately, one of Bonecrusher's optics had been hanging from just a few wires. She still had the delicate glass and metal parts, just in case, but it was pretty much damaged beyond hope.

Bonecrusher had flinched when she had shown it to him.

His left arm had been twisted and mangled and there was some internal damage that severely limited his movements. He couldn't walk, could hardly move at all, and while he could transform, it was EXTREMLY painful to him. When he did try to move, there was a horrible grinding, screeching noise from somewhere deep within his large chest. He screamed a lot when that happened, and there was a lot of black, foul-smelling smoke that made her eyes sting.

They were waiting to work on that. Nether was ready for Mikaela to crack open his armor and go digging around some very sensitive parts. Working on wiring was painful, but it wasn't life-threatening. Inside his chest was a different story, for she could easily pull the wrong thing and instantly kill him.

"Sam called today," Mikaela muttered softly. Leaning forward, she started to put the repaired wires back inside.

Bonecrusher didn't say anything. He hadn't said much about Sam at all. The human had somehow managed to kill Megatron and destroy the All Spark in a single act. In a single second, everything he had been fighting for had disappeared. He had told her that he'd been fighting for so long, the thought of it being over was… mind-numbing.

"Spring break is coming up. He and Bee want to visit." She could actually feel Bonecrusher's anxiety, and she said hastily, "I've been putting him off. Telling him how busy I am getting my business set up."

Bonecrushers armor felt cool against her hands. Vastly different from the almost organic warmth his inners gave off.

"I'm not sure I want to see him right now."

Bonecrusher snorted. "You ARE helping the enemy that tried to kill him."

Mikaela frowned at the sarcastic remark. "If I were you, I wouldn't anger the woman that's currently holding a handful of YOUR wires, buddy!"

Said wires twitched in her hands, telling her he was very well aware of what she was holding and what she could do to him.

"It is the truth."

"Well, it's over, right? No war, no enemies. Right?"

The construction vehicle seemed to think this over. Part of his facial plates drew together, almost like a human brown furrowing. "Hmmm. I suppose. Others might not think that way."

"Do you?"

Now that was the BIG question. It was something that bothered her every night as she lay in bed. Was she doing the right thing? Bonecrusher was a Decepticon, so how likely was it that once he could move he would squish her and then go and try to kill her friends… try to kill Sam?

She stopped working, waiting for his answer.

He paused, giving the human who had so much say in whether or not he lived or died a long look. "I believe in survival of the fittest."

"Might I point out that you're not very fit right now?"

The mech's mouth turned downward in a harsh frown. He didn't much like being reminded of that. While he never outright said anything, Mikaela suspected he was uneasy about being repaired by a human. Probably had some sort of inferiority complex about Humans being nothing but insects.

"Only the strong survive," he stressed again, as Mikaela rolled her eyes.

"Or the very lucky!"

Mikaela snapped back at him annoyed that he hadn't really answered her question. Bonecrusher was like that. He never gave her a straight answer. She let it go for now, though, and forced herself to be patient. They had been at war longer than she could imagine, and she understood that some things didn't change overnight. She would give him time to decide… and hope that she wouldn't have to kill him.

Mikaela slowly stood up and stretched, her back popping loudly.

"That's disgusting," Bonecrusher said, his one red optic dimming. It always amazed her how expressive a mech's face could be. Who would have figured a giant robot could look grossed out?

Mikaela smiled. "Yeah, maybe, but it felt good."

Feeling particularly brave, Mikaela patted the armored head, near the weld mark where she had patched up the hole. She had never used an acetylene torch before, but she had managed. It was as pretty damn good job, if she did say so herself.

"You want me to turn the TV on?"

"You ain't trying to fix me. This is torture; first the wiring and now late night TV."

Mikaela laughed. She hadn't known what to expect when Bonecrusher had woken up for the first time. Something evil and cruel, she was sure. After all, he had killed a bunch of people on that bus that he destroyed. Destroyed just for the sake of destroying.

Evil? Yes. Cruel? Absolutely. However, he also had a strange sort of twisted humor. It was something to think about. The mech was in some serious pain, his life was in constant danger until he let her try and fix whatever was broken inside, and yet he still managed to crack a joke here and there. Granted, the jokes were usually smart-assed and sarcastic, but they were still jokes.

"Well, what do you want? You can't access the internet. All there is is cable unless you wanna shut down."

Bonecrusher made a strange noise, like a metal brush rasping over a grate. "I've already recharged today."

"Which translates into, 'I don't trust the human near me while I sleep.'"

Mikaela walked over to her tool box. Patting the weld mark had brought to her attention the ugly lines. They needed to be sanded down and then repainted. She knew it was just cosmetic work, but it would give the mech a break from the pain.

"We're going to have to find out what's wrong inside sooner or later. It's been three months and you still can't move. Everything else --minus some melted wiring, of course-- is slowly fixing itself… but not that."

"Why are you fixing me?"

Now that was a familiar question. He asked it every single night. She always answered, too, just not in a way that seemed to satisfy the Decepticon.

"Because it didn't seem right for you to rot forgotten in that junk yard."

The mech looked confused. "What is 'rot'?"

Mikaela sighed. Bonecrusher asked questions like that often. It wasn't that he was dumb, far from it; it was just that a lot of human words didn't have direct translations. Due to some damage inside his processor that she hadn't been able to fix, he was without internet access… maybe forever.

"Decomposition. It's when flesh dies and breaks down." He frowned deeper, and she elaborated, "In the sentence I used, it means to just sit there forever and rust away."

A tiny, almost windshield wiper looking thing, went over his one optic. It kind of worked like a blink, from what Mikaela could tell, helping to keep the fragile glass covering clean.

"Not like I had a choice."

There was a bitterness to the deep voice that made Mikaela blink herself. Mikaela was silent for a long moment, and then she crossed her arms, meeting the one red optic. She didn't shrink from the cold stare.

"Me, neither."

888888888888888888888

_(Three months earlier)_

Mikaela entered the junkyard through the front gate.

Her little scooter just wasn't going to cut it anymore, so she had just purchased a large, old Chevy. It was a good buy, and she might even turn it into a tow truck later. Right now, however, she needed a few parts to make it run well.

She didn't have much time, since she wanted to leave in less than a week and get the hell out of Tranquility. She had even less money, but she refused to ask the government for anything else. She had a house, land and a loaded garage, so as far as she was concerned, whatever debt the government felt it had was paid for in full. She would make it on her own from here.

However, having so little money meant she couldn't afford nice new parts, so she was treasure hunting in junkyards. She was at Jim's yard now. The guy had been a buddy of her father's before the law got in the way.

"Hi," Mikaela said, smiling widely and brushing back some hair that had escaped her braid.

An older man in his 60's stood up, smiling just as wide as Mikaela. Despite how many years it was since he'd last seen her, he recognized her instantly.

"Missy Lalaa."

Mikaela rolled her eyes at the old nickname.

"How you been, girl? Haven't seen you, since…" he trailed off, frowning slightly. "Since your Daddy got in trouble."

Mikaela patted his arm. "It's alright. Dad's due for parole soon."

Jim stood back, looking Mikaela up and down, but not in the sleazy way most men did. "You've grown so much. Makes me feel old. But…I'll be glad to talk to your daddy again."

"Business doing good?" Mikaela asked, slipping her arms through one of his. Jim had been more like an uncle to her than just her father's friend. He had been there to help out when things had been at their worst. Unfortunately, Mikaela's mother had considered him a bad influence and quickly cut him off once they were on their feet.

"Same old, same old. What about you, girl?"

Mikaela hesitated a moment, and then told the truth. If anyone would understand, it would be this man. "I just quit school. I'm moving to Indiana in a few days."

"Ya quit?"

Mikaela nodded. "I got some land and money. I'm going to open a car repair shop." She paused, and then finished, "I haven't told my mother. In fact… I'm not going to."

Jim looked down. There had always been a rift between mother and daughter since the father was arrested. He could only imagine what her momma would say, but Randy would probably be delighted at the thought of his girl opening her own shop.

"I wish you luck." Jim took a deep breath. "So, what can I do you for?"

"I'm looking for some parts for a 76 Chevy."

"Hmm." Jim scratched his unshaven chin. "I think we got a couple in da back. Not sure if any of da engine parts are worth da effort of takin em out, though, ta be 'onest, Lalaa."

"I'll just go take a look. See if anything catches my fancy."

Together they walked out back.

Jim had told the truth. He only had 3 trucks that she could get parts from, and all three of them were in horrible shape. Still she managed to get a few parts, but they weren't enough to get her truck running. Perhaps she would have more luck elsewhere.

She barely noticed Jim leaving her to deal with another customer. Her mind was lost in all the things she needed to do before leaving.

Turning around to head back, something tan caught her eye. It was something in a large garage, one that she knew well. She had learned a lot watching Unca Jim and her father work on the old junkers that it had held. Now, however, there was something different inside. Twisted, tortured metal, most of it blackened by heat and god knew what else.

She didn't know why, but she couldn't look away from it.

"Lalaa?"

Mikaela nearly jumped out of her skin. "Jeez, Unca, don't scare me like that."

Putting a hand over her heart, Mikaela tried to catch her breath.

Jim chuckled. "Sorry, little girl."

Mikaela turned back to the unrecognizable mountain of metal. "What's that?"

Jim scratched at his chin. "No sure, ta be honest with ya. Some sorta construction vehicle, we think."

Mikaela walked up to the metal, placing a hand on it. Something… seemed very off with this.

"Came from Mission city, actually."

"WHAT!" Mikaela said, her eyes narrowing.

Jim was taken aback by the sharp explanation. Holding up his hands, he explained more. "Buddy of mine towed it out here. Said he found it at a construction site-- totaled. The company wanted it gone. Kind of weird, actually…he said none of the other buildings or vehicles were messed up, just this one."

Mikaela could feel her heart racing, and her palms were starting to sweat. There was no way this was what…WHO she thought it might be. All the Decepticons had been dropped into the ocean.

At least… she thought they had been.

"Something the matter?" Jim asked, seeing how white Mikaela had gone.

Mikaela ignored him, instead opting to walk around the mess of metal. Her eyes had gone hard, looking for anything that would confirm or deny what she thought she was seeing.

"Oh, god," she whispered softly, hands tracing across a familiar and utterly terrifying symbol. She wiped some of the dirt away. There was no denying it now.

But what to do? She needed to call someone. Sam for sure, so he could tell Bumblebee what she had found and get Optimus and the others out here.

"Don't have any room here. Gonna have it smashed, sell the metal for scrap."

"You're going to destroy h… IT?" she asked, her eyes darting back to the mech. A horrible feeling jolted from her chest to settle in her stomach. "How much?"

"Huh?"

Mikaela wasn't sure what she was thinking. She had to be insane, but she couldn't let a living being get crushed like any old car. "How much for it?"

Jim blinked, like he couldn't wrap his mind around why Mikaela wanted to buy the tower of twisted metal in front of him. "Well, Lalaa, I didn't pay anything to get it. So how's this; just tell me why and you can have it."

Mikaela stared up at the metal. The transformer was in his vehicle mode, which was probably the only reason he hadn't been gathered up with the rest.

"I want to fix it," she said, her voice distant. It was the truth. She didn't know why, or even if she could. But…the thought of leaving him in this junkyard felt so wrong it was making her sick.

Jim shook his head. "Why? This is junk. It doesn't run. It's messed up like nothing I've ever seen."

Mikaela turned toward Jim. "Unca Jim…" She paused. She wasn't allowed to say anything about the transformers, not even to her family. But she needed to stress how important this was… and how important it was not to tell anyone about it. "I was in Mission city."

Whatever Jim was going to say died a quick death. His eyes had gone very wide with a disbelieving, 'holy shit' look.

"Don't believe the news," Mikaela said, turning back toward the destroyed construction vehicle. "I'm sorry, Unca, I can't tell you what really happened. Not yet. But this…" She reached out and touched the cool metal again. "There's more to it than meets the eye."

Jim narrowed his eyes, glancing uncertainly at the vehicle.

"And the thought of it being destroyed… like common junk…" Mikaela took a deep breath. "I can't tell you why, but it ain't right."

"This'll be an oversized load, so not just anyone can move it. We need permits and stuff. I gotta buddy that can haul it for you. Indiana, you say?"

Mikaela nodded. "Unca…can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, little girl."

"Don't not tell anyone. If we can, I don't even want the driver to know what this is. And please… PLEASE don't tell anyone that it came from Mission City."

Jim nodded slowly. "You got it."

88888888888888888

The silence stretched on. Mikaela didn't back down from staring at Bonecrusher.

It had been a fluke to find him. Fate, really. Jim was going to have him crushed, and then melted down for scrap. It was hard to believe she had been there just at the right time to save him.

Hell, it was a miracle she had even recognized him. She'd only seen Bonecrusher for a few fleeting moments right before his fight with Optimus.

"You're going to have to trust me," she said, breaking the tense silence. "Unless… you want me to call Ratchet."

She swallowed. The thought of telling the Autobots what she had done left a bad taste in her mouth. She didn't want to see their looks of shock and betrayal.

She knew they wouldn't kill a downed mech, but what would happen afterward? Would she stay out of jail? Mikaela had a pretty good idea she must be breaking some sort of law hiding a hostile alien robot in her garage.

"NO!" he said, surprisingly loudly. "Do not tell the Autobots, you slagging pile of meat!"

Mikaela's eyes widened as a familiar, high-pitched squeal came from within the mech's body. "What are you doing! Don't move!"

Too late; the black smoke was back. Bonecrusher fell back, a hoarse scream forcing its way out of his throat. Mikaela forced a frustrated growl past her coughing as she was driven back by Bonecrusher's flailing. She had no idea what was in the smoke, but she hoped it wasn't to dangerous, 'cause _damn_, it smelled horrible. It irritated her skin, made her eyes sting and left her throat sore for a day or so after inhaling it.

"Calm down! Stop moving, for crying out loud! BONECRUSHER!" Suddenly, Mikaela screamed herself. Turning, she quickly ran and got the fire extinguisher. "You're on fire! STOP MOVING!"

He completely ignored her, but then again, he might not have been able to hear her over his own pained screams.

Her eyes narrowed as Mikaela took a deep breath, and then she jumped onto Bonecrusher's left arm. She almost fell off until he suddenly stopped moving, making Mikaela fear for his life. He wasn't screaming anymore, which meant he was either unconscious or dead. As fast as she could, she climbed up the mech's arm and onto his chest. Without hesitation, she sprayed the flames that flickered from holes inside his armor.

"Jesus," she muttered, looking at the mess.

"That's it, big boy!" she suddenly said, with a determined flash in her eyes.

She had been respecting Bonecrusher's wish to stay out of his chest before, but fuck, this was getting ridiculous. The familiar sounds of machinery inside told her he was still alive, but for how long? He could have died just now.

Taking a screw driver out of her tool belt, Mikaela started to work. She would do what she could and then wait until he woke up to finish the rest. Fuck his insecurities. She wasn't going to let him die because of something so stupid!

88888888888888888

Sam sighed as he stared at the phone. He had tried to call Mikaela again, and again she hadn't picked up.

"What did I do wrong, Mojo?" he asked the small brown Chihuahua. "She just up and left everyone and everything."

He hated the fact that she hadn't told him exactly why she broke up with him, but he wouldn't ask. Something had told him not to press the matter.

Still… it hurt. He had loved her, still loved her.

Petting Mojo absentmindedly, Sam laid back in his bed. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. Before the Autobots, Sam hadn't known what he was going to do with his life. Go to college for a few years, maybe, and find some sort of job. He hadn't really given it much thought. All his time and energy had been on getting a car and a girlfriend.

Now he had the car, lost the girl, but was a lot surer of his future.

"Going to join the Army," he said softly to Mojo. "Captain Lennox says that he'll get me transferred to his unit after basic."

Sam smiled. He knew he'd get special treatment from the Captain, but also knew the guy wouldn't go easy on him. In fact, Sam looked forward to all the training Lennox had promised. He hoped that someday he would be more useful to the Autobots. He knew they would never forget his role in the battle, but that had been more stupid luck than anything.

He wanted his skills to be more. _He_ wanted to be more. And like those damn commercials said, he wanted to be all he could be.

"Just gotta tell my parents," Sam said, patting Mojo's head. The cast was gone now, although the junkie still begged and whined for the pills. "They're going to have a fit."

Suddenly, Sam sat up. Mojo barked, annoyed that his pillow had moved. "You know what, Mojo? I'm going to tell them now. If I'm really going to go to Qatar with Will, I can't pussyfoot around this. This'll be easy compared to the stuff they'll have me do."

Sam stood up. "Besides…" he said with a smile. "Dealing with my parents will keep my mind off Mikaela."

Taking a deep breath, Sam opened his door. He knew exactly where his parents were. In front of the TV, watching the news and making snide comments about it. It was a ritual of sorts for them. His dad was rather sarcastic so it got nasty sometimes, which was the reason Sam didn't watch the news with them. His dad always tried to get into a debate with him over the latest report.

Walking down the stairs, Sam felt his mouth go dry. He hadn't told them about Mission City or Bumblebee yet, although he had permission from the Secretary of Defense to do so. The man said that since Bumblebee was going to live in their garage and that their son could possibly be in danger of revenge attacks, it was within their rights to know. He had left the decision to Sam, though, to tell them if he felt he needed to.

"Mom… Dad?" Sam said as he entered the living room. Both parents looked up, his mom seeming to be delighted that he had come downstairs, while his Dad looked surprised.

"Hey, Sammy, I thought you'd be in bed by now," his mother said with a warm smile.

Sam shook his head. "Can I talk to you guys?"

"Of course, sweetie!" Judy said, her smile widening, although there was a hint of worry in her eyes as well. She patted the couch beside her, but Sam didn't sit. He just stood there, trying to find a place to start.

"Something wrong, Sam?" his father finally asked, breaking the silence.

Sam shook his head. "I've decided something. About… after school."

Mother and father shared a look. "Well, son, let's hear it."

"I've decided to join the army."

Judy choked, and her husband sat there blinking in surprise.

"What?"

"Are you nuts, son? We're in a war. They'll send you to…"

"Qatar," Sam said, interrupting his father. "After basic I'll be assigned to Captain William Lennox for special training."

Ron frowned harshly, but forced himself to remain seated. This was the first time in a long time that Sam had really talked to them. His boy --while a good kid-- had stopped really talking to them at about thirteen. He never told them anything that wasn't forced, but Ron knew his boy wasn't doing anything wrong. It was just a teenage thing, he was sure.

And yet… here he was. Actually talking to them, telling them what he wanted to do after school. He was looking at them straight on, without the normal stutter he usually got when nervous. His son was serious.

"How do you know that, son?" Ron asked. He'd never been in the army himself, but he knew how it worked. Sam shouldn't know something like that. And what was this about 'special' training?

"Dad…" Sam took a deep breath. He knew it was time to tell his parents. He wanted them to understand why he was joining. He wanted to learn how to protect them, how to protect everyone. They had beaten Megatron, but there were other Decepticons out there.

"I've lied to you," he finally started, "about what happened a few weeks ago."

Sam rubbed his side. He still was covered in bruises, the worst being on his left side. He was lucky nothing was broken from his fall. Optimus had saved him, but a metal hand wasn't exactly the softest surface to land on.

Ron shared a worried glance with Judy. His wife opened her mouth, but stopped when Ron squeezed her hand softly, asking her to remain quiet.

"Dad, I was almost killed last week." Sam ignored his shocked parents and continued, "I was useless when things got their worst. All I could do was run."

Sam clenched his hands. "I almost broke down, and I don't want that to happen again. That's why I've decided to join. Will can teach me how to help… how to make a difference if things get bad again."

"What are you talking about?" Judy asked, unable keep quiet anymore. What was this talk about her son being in danger?

"Son…" Ron began, "not to disregard what you're saying, but what kind of danger could you have gotten into?"

Ron crossed his arms. He simply couldn't see his son getting into the kind of trouble he was hinting at.

Sam sighed again. He didn't blame his father for not believing him. Without a word, he slipped his shirt off, showing both his parents the horrible, ugly bruises that still covered his body.

"SAMMY!" his mother cried out, instantly on her feet. "Who did that to you! I'll kick his ass so hard his own grandchildren will feel it… NO, I'll kick his ass so hard some stranger that just happens to look a little like him will feel it!"

Ron stayed, sitting and blinking. Those… looked horrible, but not like any bruises he'd ever seen. He'd seen his fair share of bruises from fist fights and the like, but these weren't fist-sized bruises. They were the size of watermelons, marking his skin in ugly shades of green, blue, purple and red.

"We need to take you to the hospital now!" Judy continued.

"No, mom. It's fine. I've already seen a medic."

Granted, the medic wasn't human, but Ratchet had done scans and said that nothing was broken. Nothing internal was damaged.

"Alright, son. You have my attention. What happened?" Ron was not a happy camper. His son was injured AND had lied to them about what happened.

Sam opened his mouth, but closed it with a snap. Okay, now how to tell his father?

He might as well go with the simplest way.

"Giant alien robots were at war with each other, fighting over a cube thing called the All Spark. Grandpa found one… the ice man. His glasses held the clue to finding the cube."

"Huh?"

Judy and Ron blinked at their son.

"A look-alike cop car almost killed me, but my Camero saved me." Sam shivered as he quickly continued to talk, not letting his parents interrupt. "Sector Seven took us to the Hoover Dam, and the Decepticons --AKA bad guys-- attacked. Will Lennox gave me the cube and told me to run. I did… and Megatron almost got me."

Sam shuddered violently, remembering Megatron's red eyes and his sharp teeth, the loud bellow and his words, 'that's so unwise.' He still had nightmares of falling. The shock of the building collapsing underneath him.

"Son… I'm sorry. But maybe…" Ron looked pained. "Maybe we should have you see a doctor."

Sam laughed, startling both his parents, and then met their eyes. He let everything show through them. No more lies. He wouldn't lie to them anymore.

They both were stunned to silence again by the strange… hardened look in their son's eyes. They had never seen this part of him before. He suddenly looked so grown up, so adult…

_No… _Ron thought to himself, feeling slightly sickened. _He looks like a soldier._

"I know it's hard to believe. I have proof, but I want you to believe me. Believe me just because I'm telling you it's the truth."

Sam looked at his father, not blinking. He knew his parents would believe; all he had to do was take them outside and have Bumblebee show them. But… he didn't want to do that. He wanted them to believe in him, without proof.

"Ron," Judy said, placing a hand on her husband's arm. She smiled at him before turning to Sam. "I believe you, Sam."

Ron closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sam could see him struggling. "Sam, this is… it's impossible. But okay, I'll believe you."

Sam slipped his shirt back on and smiled widely. "Good. Follow me."

He paused a moment to make sure his parents were following and then went outside. His car…the yellow Camero, sat silent in the driveway. Ron frowned. His son honestly couldn't believe this car was an alien.

"This is Bumblebee," Sam said, patting the hood. "He's my guardian."

"Sam… please," Ron started, only to stop as the weirdest sound he ever heard came from the car.

"Roooon," Judy said, her voice breaking as suddenly the car shifted and stood up.

Ron swallowed, his mind going back in time to when his son got arrested and he told the officers that his car had just stood up. Sam had been accused of using drugs, and now Ron kind of wondered what had been in that sweet tea he'd been drinking.

There was a giant… robot standing in his driveway, and Ron could only blink.

The robot --Bumblebee, as his son had called him-- knelt down. Ron realized the robot was trying to look smaller, maybe to help calm them.

"Hi." The sound of its voice was strange. Metallic, with a buzzing harshness to it.

Sam glared at the robot, which kind of surprised Ron. He sure as hell wouldn't glare like that at something that could step on him.

"Hey, Ratchet said no talking! You're still healing!"

The robot actually looked sheepish as it sat down in the driveway. It lifted its hands in an 'okay, okay' gesture.

"Bumblebee, this is my mom and dad." Sam smiled, turning his head slightly toward his parents.

"That's…" Ron started. "A big ass robot!"

Sam laughed, as did Bumblebee. "Actually, compared to the others, he's kind of short."

"Others?" Judy said, her eyes not leaving the alien sitting in her driveway.

"Yeah, there are three other Autobots on Earth right now."

"And the… what did you call them, Decepticons? What about them?"

Sam shifted nervously. "Only one left that we know of. Barricade, the cop car I told you about. He escaped."

Bumblebee made a worried sound, but didn't speak.

"Sam…what happened?" his mother asked.

Sam sighed as he sat down on Bumblebee's foot. His parents noticed this, as well as the utterly trusting, comfortable attitude their son showed toward the giant alien. It made them relax a little. If their son trusted this thing, then they could as well.

Speaking quietly, Sam told them the whole story. Everything he remembered; seeing Bumblebee for the first time, as well as his confrontations with Barricade, Frenzy, Sector Seven… and Megatron.

"He told me… he'd let me live as his pet." Sam clenched his fists. "When I refused, he hit the building. It collapsed, and Optimus caught me."

Judy squeaked in fear, and Sam smiled a little. "No sacrifice, no victory."

At those words, Ron felt something explode in his chest. Pride.

His son… he was a real hero. He had stood up to unimaginable odds. 'No sacrifice, no victory' was their family motto, and his son… he understood it. Ron had tried for so long to show his son the true meaning of those words, but it looked like he had discovered it on his own.

"I'd like to meet the other Autobots," Ron suddenly said, surprising his wife. He stood up and held out his hand without fear. "Thanks for looking after my son."

The robot looked surprised, as if he didn't expect to be welcomed so quickly. However, he smiled brightly --at least Ron thought it was a smile-- and reached out with his massive hand. Despite the difference of size, the robot was surprisingly gentle as it shook Ron's hand.

"Son," Ron said, still looking up at the large robot, "I'm so very proud of you."

Sam felt his breath catch.

"The Army, huh?" Ron muttered as he scratched the back of his head. "Well, you'd better take care of yourself."


	2. Freak Out

_(About two months ago)_

Bonecrusher didn't remember a lot.

Hell, he didn't even remember getting into a fight with Prime. The last thing he recalled was being bored out of his mind sitting at the construction zone, and so it had been somewhat of a surprise to wake up in a large room filled with bizarre tools. The pain hadn't quite kicked in yet, so he had a few blessed moments to look around and wonder, 'what the fuck?'

And then he had seen the human. A small female, attractive by human standards.

Funny thing was that she wasn't afraid. His scanners were pretty much toast, but he could still get her vitals. Her heart rate and respiration were all normal…and yet he was in his mech form. He could clearly see the icon flashing in the corner of his vision, telling him his current transformation status. He could also see a lot of blank spots that usually held important information for the mech. Dismissing the girl for a moment, he focused on those, trying to figure out what was damaged and how badly.

After a while, he gave up, groaning as he realized his diagnostic program was down. In fact, from what he could tell, almost nothing was working.

It was right about then that the pain finally caught up with his head.

_OH, PRIMAS ABOVE!_

It nearly offlined him again, it hurt so badly. Everything was pure pain! He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt this much agony before. Being the largest and strongest of the Constructicons meant he usually didn't get too damaged. At least, not like this.

The human female turned toward him at that moment. She wasn't afraid of him, or surprised, so that suggested she had had some contact with Cybertronians in the past. Probably Autobots, since his kind was more likely to just step on her.

She was speaking to him. He could see her mouth moving, but he couldn't hear anything.

And now… she was touching him? WHY was she touching him!?

Bonecrusher tried to lift one massive arm. He didn't even really need to hit her with it. Just let it drop on her, so she'd go squish and he could moan and whither peacefully in hell.

Something inside his body clicked and grinded, causing a whole new level of not good that had the big, bad warrior screaming like a sparkling. He felt no shame about it, either. There came a point when ego was totally useless to a mech, and he had reached that point and beyond. He didn't care who saw or heard him, just as long as the pain stopped.

Something was _seriously_ wrong with him.

Thoroughly distracted by the pain, he let the limb drop. Not that he had managed to move it more than a few human inches, anyway.

"Don't move," a firm voice told him. Bonecrusher frowned, staring up at the plain ceiling as the pain finally ebbed away, becoming somewhat manageable.

The voice was nice. It sounded a little like one of their long lost femmes.

It was a little strange, actually. Humanity sort of reminded him of the Cybertronian race, with a single head, two arms, two legs, bipedal locomotion and gender division. He'd never seen another species quite like that.

Of course, that was probably the medic in him talking. The Decepticon part was just pissed off and wanted to kill the meatbag. That part could care less. This human was weaker than him, and so it should be squished. Only things that could stand up to his strength had the right to survive.

Survival of the fittest was a human phrase that was very, VERY appealing to him. It was the best damn train of thought the monkeys had ever come up with. He'd never had a 'catch phrase' that explained how he felt so simply before. Cybertronians didn't have evolution like this planet did, and survival of the fittest sounded so much better than, 'if you're weaker than me you don't deserve to live.'

"I think I fixed the hole in your head."

"Eh?" he asked intelligently. What hole in his head?

Bonecrusher turned his neck, pausing a moment to make sure it didn't set off whatever was broken inside his chest. He stared at the human, taking a closer look at her, and saw that she was covered in lubricates, oil and grease. Bonecrusher felt uneasy as he realized those were his body fluids staining her clothes and skin. He could even see a few Energon burns on her arms.

His mind felt kind of fuzzy. The pain must be getting to him, because all he could think was that she should have those thoroughly cleaned to make sure they don't get worse. Energon burns hurt. At least they hurt a mech's skin, creating a hot flash of burning that just wouldn't go away. He was very happy he didn't feel any burning.

Stabbing, mind-numbing pain was a big, old check… but, hey, at least it didn't burn.

The human looked worried as she approached his head. She snapped her fingers in front of his optics, trying to get him to focus on her. "Hey, stay with me here."

Why was this human talking to him? Why was she apparently fixing him? How did he get hurt?

His processors must really be messed up, because he couldn't seem to focus on anything. The questions came, but he couldn't find the answers. All he could do was stare at the little, dark-haired human.

"What's you're name?" she asked softly.

Bonecrusher could feel it as she set her hands on his armor. He shuddered then, but not from disgust. Just the warmth of her hands made him realize his internal temperature was too low. While it wouldn't kill him, it was worrisome. Certain parts and fluids needed to be at a certain temperature to operate efficiently. There was an acceptable range of several degrees, so it kind of scared him that his body had cooled down so much. It probably meant a lot of systems had been offline for a long time.

Just how long had he been out?

"Bonecrusher," he said. The mech didn't see any reason not to tell her. Maybe talking would clear his head, and at the very least she might be able to tell him what was going on. Humans were underdeveloped, but they were also rather clever little things.

Not that he would ever voice that, especially to another Decepticon. Oh, hell, no.

Still, the race was so very young. Its individuals lived for such a short time, and yet look at what they had achieved. They'd only discovered flight a little over a hundred human years ago, and in that short time they had managed to land on their moon and reach out further. Not that he respected the little flesh bags, but he wasn't as dense with prejudice as some of the others. He could see what was in front of his nose. Given time, the human race might become something to fear.

Maybe.

"Bonecrusher?" The girl looked him over. "Suits you, I guess. I'm Mikaela."

Mikaela? Humans had weird names. Names were supposed to tell people something about the person. Bonecrusher told others a lot, speaking of his strength and ruthlessness in battle. It also told others of his temperament and warned them to be careful lest they get crushed. Starscream's name was all about his horrid voice, and he was sure Barricade's was a play on words. Probably something about how the mech kept others out. How he was a loner, a don't-need-nobody kind of bot, extremely so even for a Decepticon.

Devastator…

Bonecrusher shuddered again, this time in rage. That slagging glitch! He really hoped the tank had survived whatever happened just so Bonecrusher could tear him limb from limb. He had heard rumors, of course, but didn't really believe it until he had seen it.

Devastator, his AFT!

Frenzy…well, that name was about as subtle as a brick to the head.

But what did Mikaela tell him? Nothing! A waste of words and air. What was the point of having a designation if it served no purpose?

"I welded the hole shut this morning," the human continued obliviously.

Welded?

Bonecrusher shifted, and then froze as the broken part inside his chest threatened to act up again.

_Welded??_

That did not sound good. There was no way the girl was a medic, so unless an Autobot was nearby, helping her out --which he doubted, since an Autobot wouldn't leave her alone in the same room as a Decepticon, no matter how damaged-- then she was probably just fucking around in his systems without a clue.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to focus on the girl. Not an easy task, it turned out, since his field of vision was drastically narrower than what he was used to.

"You don't remember?" the girl asked as she wiped her hands off on a cloth. Bonecrusher had to force himself not to look at the soaked rag. He didn't need to look at the light blue stains covering the cloth.

"Nothing," he said. "I can assume there was a battle?"

_Which we probably lost,_ Bonecrusher thought bitterly. He was one of the strongest warriors, so if he was down then the others were probably out.

Well…except for Megatron.

"Yep, you got your ass handed to you by Optimus."

"Optimus Prime," he muttered sourly. It made sense; if anyone could offline him it would be that bot.

He waited for the girl to continue, since she seemed to know what had happened. Perhaps a bystander?

No…a human bystander wouldn't fix him. Humans didn't know of beings beyond their world. A bystander would have been terrified and useless, so she must somehow be a friend of the Autobots.

"You don't remember anything? I guess you probably want an update?"

Bonecrusher nodded.

The femme went still a moment, before looking up at him. "All right, but promise me you won't freak out."

Freak out? Bonecrusher had no idea what that phrase meant, so he tried to access the internet.

Silence.

He frowned, prompting the subroutines online again. It was an easy task, as instinctive as transforming, but all his attempt achieved was a horrible moment of nothing. Where there should be prompts to connection and search, in their place was emptiness. He couldn't connect to the human World Wide Web, which also meant his Com system was trashed.

He couldn't contact anyone, friend or foe.

"What does 'Freak out" mean?" he was finally forced to ask.

The human looked surprised, but answered readily enough. "You know, go ballistic, um…freak out means to go crazy."

Bonecrusher raised one of his optic coverings. "Very well. I will not freak out."

The girl didn't look convinced, but spoke anyway. "Prime shoved a sword through your head. A team of Special ops helped to take out Blackout and that tank thing… er, Devastator."

"THAT WAS NOT DEVASTATOR!" Bonecrusher bellowed, scaring the bejesus out of the human.

"Huh?"

"His name was Brawl. He was NOT Devastator!"

"Well, excuse me! That was what I was told his name was!"

"He lied! He was not Devastator. Do not vilify that name, Squishy!"

The girl looked offended. "Squishy? Charming."

After a moment, she sighed and continued, "The TANK was taken out by Will's team and Bumblebee. We know that Starscream left the planet, and that the cop car has disappeared."

Bonecrusher frowned. Starscream was a coward, so the fact that he had taken off didn't surprise the mech at all. Barricade, however, he wasn't so sure about. There could be a number of things the shock trooper could be up to.

"Megatron?" he finally asked.

The girl smiled. That one little smile told the Decepticon all he needed to know. Megatron was dead.

"Sam killed him."

Bonecrusher wondered if his audio receptors were malfunctioning. Sam? That strange human name sounded familiar.

Sam Witwicky…that was the human adolescent that Barricade had been searching for. The boy with the glasses that would lead them to the All Spark.

"The human boy?" he said, his voice clearly unbelieving.

"Yeah, Sam. He shoved the All Spark into Megatron's chest."

His reaction was immediate. The giant's body shuddered violently, his eye dimming noticeably as he let his head drop. Grief, hard and cold, wrapped around his spark.

The All Spark was destroyed. His kind… his race was doomed to extinction. He had always known Megatron's ambitions could cause the All Spark to be destroyed someday. He just hadn't known it would be so soon or that it would hurt this much.

Of course, in the past he hadn't really cared. He'd still had his brothers. But they 've been dead for eons, and now he would never know any others.

He'd had his own plans once the All Spark was found. He would make new brothers. They wouldn't replace the old ones, but he knew his brothers would want him to rebuild, to recreate the power they had all held.

But now…

"Bonecrusher?" The girl --Mikaela-- was touching him again.

"You're not messing with me, are you? Some cruel Autobot joke?"

She shook her head. "No."

The mech's optic remained dimmed. There was a long, uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch on forever. The girl merely looked at him, showing no signs of breaking it herself. Finally, Bonecrusher pulled himself from his grief. He would be alone forever now, but he could handle that. He just needed time.

Right now, however… he needed to ensure his own survival.

"Are you fixing me?"

"Yes."

"Do the Autobots know?"

She shook her head. "Everyone thinks you're dead, sunk in the ocean."

"Why are you fixing me?"

"Honestly?" The girl shrugged. "I really don't know."

8888888

(Present day, somewhere in the Nevada desert)

Optimus Prime pinched the bridge of his 'nose,' trying to ward off a possible migraine. He could feel his CPU throbbing, warning him he'd better stop abusing it or it would start abusing him.

"Simmons, please calm down."

Optimus forced himself to focus on the man again. Simmons merely crossed his arms, glaring up at the large bot with a stubborn look on his face.

Primus above.

Optimus liked the man, he really did. He had improved vastly since their first meeting, proving himself to be a man that would stick with you to the end once you had his loyalty. He was intelligent, although a little strange, but Optimus was used to strange. He'd had a few bots with screws loose under his command before. Simmons wasn't the worst by a long shot.

However, he was also proving to be as jumpy and paranoid as Red Alert on his worst day…with a stubborn streak as tall as Megatron himself.

"I'm telling you, Prime. It doesn't make sense!"

"All the Decepticons have been accounted for. The only ones missing after the fight were Barricade and Starscream."

"I'm not talking about that!" Simmons waved some papers in front of him. If Optimus had been human, those sheets of printed paper would have been waving right in his face. "The transportation records…they make NO SENSE!"

"Due to the transport's sensitive nature --top secret, I believe your government calls it-- I was told there would be no 'records'."

Simmons rolled his eyes. "No computer records. We ain't risking another breach. But there should be a paper trail, and there's nothing!"

He started leafing through the sheets. "Frenzy, Blackout, Devastator, Megatron…" Simmons trailed off, and in a much softer voice, said, "Jazz."

Shaking his head, he continued in his loud and animated protest, "But not the big guy. He's not here. It says right here he was picked up at 18 hundred hours, put on a flatbed for transportation… and then there's nothing. He's not on the Bill of Lading (1). Its like he never made it out of Mission city."

Optimus frowned, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the sheets of organic writing templates. It was true. If the papers Simmons had were complete --which they were, since the papers were numbered--, it appeared that Bonecrusher wasn't part of the final count.

He had been picked up, readied for transport, and then… lost?

"I dealt with Bonecrusher myself. He is dead, Simmons."

The human made a strange sound of frustration, and Optimus titled his head. It always amazed him the range of sounds humans could make with the very simple vocal mechanism they had. "Alright, Prime. Let's say he's dead. How did he get lost?"

"We don't know that he was lost, Simmons," Prime pointed out.

"What happened to the body, then? He never made it to the ships." The government agent stiffened his back, trying to make himself look taller. "What if someone stole him…for…I don't know, scientific purposes?"

Prime frowned. "That would be against the Treaty. There is to be no… studying of a living or dead Cybertronian without myself or Ratchet present."

Prime had made a point of stressing that when the treaty had been drawn out. It wasn't so much to keep their secrets as it was to protect the living and honor the dead. The human race, while good as a whole, could also be incredibly savage.

"Yeah, well… sometimes people with an 'I can do anything' badge, think they really _can_ do anything," Simmons stressed, sensing he was finally getting through to Prime.

Optimus Prime flinched as his CPU decided that it didn't like what it had heard and complained painfully. All of this sounded very paranoid to the Autobot. Still… he couldn't completely disregard it, either. If Simmons' papers were right, then Bonecrusher never made it onto the ships.

How something so… blatantly incompetent could happen, Prime wasn't sure.

It might have been a consequence of all the secrecy and the cover-ups, where no one but the higher-ups knew what the ship was transporting and dumping. It could have been that no one on scene actually knew the total body count and thus couldn't have realized that they were missing one massive Decepticon.

"Very well, Simmons. I suppose you want permission to look into this?"

The human smiled smugly. "Absolutely, sir."

Prime nodded. "Permission granted…but, Simmons, promise me this. If this turns out to be just a mistake, leave it at that. We don't have the time or the resources for false leads."

Simmons smiled lessened slightly, but he nodded once.

Since the Treaty had been hacked out by Secretary Keller and the president, it was deemed necessary to have…advisors and ambassadors to the Autobots. The humans chosen would serve under Prime as if he were their superior officer, while sending in reports to Keller updating him on the facts and dangers. Simmons, as well as Will Lennox and Robert Epps, had been chosen. The boy, Sam Witwicky, was currently in training and would join the small corp as soon as Will felt he was ready.

Simmons, seeing that he was dismissed, turned and left the room. He felt kind of bad, pressing the issue like he had. He knew very well how stressed Prime was. They were trying to finish repairs, deal with the US government and set up a base, all while worried half to death that Starscream would bring reinforcements before they had time to set up some sort of global defense system.

However, since Simmons had come across this paperwork, he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He'd learned to trust his instincts, and while he did tend to get overly excited, as Tom Banacheck had once said, he was rarely wrong.

Something was going on. Something he didn't think Keller had any part in, which meant trouble.

Maybe another Sector Seven?

Simmons had no illusions that his old place of employment was the only secret the US government kept. Hell, there were so many secrets on top of secrets that no one truly knew everything.

His nice, new, hard-won and very interesting job was to protect the transformers until they settled in… and one day showed themselves to the public. He had failed keeping Megatron under ice, but he wouldn't fail Prime, even if it was his own government that was the problem.

Walking out into the bright desert sun, Simmons looked down at the Bill of Lading, muttering to himself, "Ron's flatbed company. Seems like a good place to start."

Most of the bodies had been in pieces, or were small enough to transport using government vehicles. Bonecrusher, however, had been mostly intact, which meant a normal truck couldn't transport him. They didn't have time to chop him up into more manageable pieces, so someone had gotten ahold of a wide load company that specialized in very, very large shipments.

It just didn't make sense. The paperwork was all here, yet the numbers and weights didn't match up.

Very weird.

"Time to talk to old Ron, and that trucker, too."


	3. Mothers van and dangling bits

-1Mikaela sighed as she pulled herself out from under a large blue SUV. She had just finished patching up a slow leak that had probably gone unnoticed for a while now, and her hands were stained with black oil.

She shook her head. "Mrs. Jenkins, you haven't been keeping an eye on the oil, have you?"

An elderly woman was sitting on the shop couch. Although Mikaela had cleaned it to within an inch of its life, the cracked leather couch was an ill-fitting backdrop for the woman's pristine, light-colored Sunday dress.

She tilted her head, and then took a moment to straighten her oversized hat. "I might have forgotten to do that a time or two."

Mikaela groaned. The car was fairly new, but was already showing signs of serious wear and tear. It simply amazed the mechanic. What did Jenkins do to this thing; run it in a derby or something?

"Well, you were two quarts low. I put some high mileage in it, but seriously, Mrs. Jenkins, if you want this car to last longer than another year, check the oil."

The woman smiled and stood up. "Well, honey, that's why I come here. I don't trust them pigs at the other shops. Dirty little swine, always telling me things that don't make a lick of sense."

Mikaela raised an eyebrow. It looked like Mrs. Jenkins views regarding the less fair sex had remained the same since she'd last been here. At least she hadn't gone on about her no-good, lazy husband this time. Yet.

"You're such a nice girl. You obviously know what you're doing." The woman looked pointedly at Mikaela's hands. "A little dirty, perhaps, but I suppose this is a dirty job."

"That it is. Your car's ready, Mrs. Jenkins." 

"Thank you, sweetie. I'll see you in 3000 miles."

That would be in about a month or so, Mikaela figured. How that old lady put so many miles on a car, she had no idea. Maybe she drove to Florida everyday or something.

Mikaela smiled as she watched one of her more colorful customers get in her car and leave. This job was far better than she had ever imagined it would be. She absolutely loved the work she did, especially talking to the people and getting to know them and their cars.

Taking a deep breath, Mikaela turned toward her 'office'. It was time to get back to work on something that was a little less enjoyable.

Namely Bonecrusher.

He hadn't woken up since the evening he had managed to set himself on fire. Although his continued state of unconsciousness was worrisome, Mikaela had taken advantage of it by slowly working on the destroyed wiring and parts inside his body. She could only hope she didn't kill him accidentally.

"I wish the bastard hadn't knocked himself out," she said in annoyance as she opened the back door. "I could use the help."

She was so scared every time she reached inside the huge mech's chest. He had told her before that there were a lot of sensitive things inside there, things that would instantly extinguish his spark if she pulled on them the wrong way or disconnected them without precautions.

Not that she knew what a spark was, anyway. She had heard Optimus talking about it before, but hadn't really gotten around to asking.

Mikaela stared contemplatively at the massive form of Bonecrusher. He still looked like shit.

"Maybe I should clean him up a bit," she said aloud to break the oppressive silence. He really was filthy; his oversized body covered in oil, grime and God knew what else. She had been very careful to keep all of that stuff out of his innards, and if some of the filth did manage to get in him, she took the effort to get it out. Just like a doctor would working on a human patient.

Still, it would be a big project. Maybe something to do later. It wasn't as if he was just a normal car-sized robot like Bumblebee. He was the biggest construction vehicle Mikaela had ever seen. She had a vague notion that his alt-mode was designed for mining, but whatever its purpose, it made even semi trucks look small.

Climbing up the ladder she had bought just so she wouldn't have to scale up the mech's arm, Mikeala went back to the large, gaping wound in Bonecrusher's chest.

"I think I know what's causing all the smoke," she said, picking up one of the tools she had left here yesterday. Her daddy had taught her better than that, and it annoyed her to leave them out, but it was just too much of a hassle to carry them all up and down the ladder everyday.

"I'm kind of worried to mess with it, though," she continued. "It's near this large cylinder thing. It looks like it's made out of some sort of protective plating, so whatever it's covering must be important."

Grabbing the edges of his armor, Mikaela carefully lowered herself into his body, making sure to keep away from anything that might move if Bonecrusher suddenly woke up. Quickly and quietly, she started to work; splicing wires, welding broken seams and replacing missing bolts. It wasn't all that much different from repairing cars.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she was brought of her zone by the phone ringing. Reaching into her pocket, she took it out. "Banes Car shop. Mikaela speaking"

"Hey, Mikaela."

"Oh…hey…Sam," Mikaela said with a flinch. She had been so focused on her work that she hadn't thought to check the caller ID.

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Sam. She loved him and wanted to be friends even if they couldn't be together. It was just that she felt so bad about leaving him like she had.

"Whatcha doing?" Sam said after hesitating a moment.

"Working." That wasn't really a lie, but it felt horrible all the same.

"Cool. Hey, listen… today is my last day of school."

Mikaela raised an eyebrow. Last day?

"I graduated early. I'm heading to boot next week," Sam quickly explained. "I was wondering if me and Bee could come and visit."

Oh, God.

Mikaela swallowed hard, unable to think of a thing to say. This was worse than spring break. That was still like a month or more away, which would have given her time to prepare, but suddenly Sam wanted to come over NOW.

It was extremely bad timing, but she couldn't tell them no without a good reason. She didn't want to hurt Sam any more.

Unable to think of an adequate excuse, she tried an old standby. "Oh, Sam, I don't know. I'm really busy."

Sam was silent a long moment. "Mikaela, I'm going to Qatar after boot. I might not get the chance to visit…for a very long time. Years, maybe."

Mikaela sighed in defeat. Sam was right. This was their only chance to visit, and she didn't have a reason to tell them no.

"You and Bee are both welcome," she said, managing somehow to keep her voice from quivering. Okay, she could do this. She would just have to keep them away from the shop. With Bonecrusher out cold, he wouldn't be a problem.

"REALLY! Cool! Well, we should be there the day after tomorrow, then. I can't wait to see you again."

Mikaela felt tears threatening to spill. She blinked a few times and nodded. "Yeah, it'll be good to see you and Bee again, too. See you guys in a few days."

"Bye!"

"Goodbye… Sam." Mikaela pressed the end button and slipped the phone back into her pocket. She was such an idiot. How in the hell was she going to hide Bonecrusher from those two?

But despite the sense of impending doom, she hadn't been able to bring herself to reject Sam again. He had sounded so sad at how she was pushing him away. They might not be a couple anymore, but they were still very good friends.

Or at least…they were. Some friend she was.

"God, I'm such a horrible person."

Unable to keep the tears back, Mikaela covered her face with a hand and choked back a sob. They had been through so much together --fighting the Decepticons and protecting the All Spark--, and she couldn't help but feel she was making a mockery of it all by hiding this dangerous alien in her garage.

It felt like forever, but in reality it was only a few minutes before Mikaela regained control of herself. She hadn't had a crying breakdown like that since her father had been convicted. She had refused to cry in the court room, putting up a brave front to show him that his little girl would be okay. But in the privacy of her own bedroom, she had cried the entire night during his first night of federal prison. She had heard so many bad prison stories, and she had been so scared for him.

Sniffling, Mikaela shoved the painful memories away. "Great, so I can add crybaby to my resume," she muttered softly as she wiped the last traces of tears from her face, "along with bad person who lies and puts her friends in danger."

Emotionally drained and not up to the task of working yet, Mikaela leaned back, resting against the armored cylinder. The metal was warmer than she expected and felt surprisingly nice and soothing against her back.

The warmth meant life.

She was saving someone's life.

That couldn't be bad, could it? She had saved Bonecrusher from being melted down like common junk. No matter what his affiliation, that fate just wasn't right.

She just wished she could convince herself totally of that. It would he nice to be able to throw away all the doubts and misgivings.

"I'm beginning to wonder," she said aloud, needing to hear something other than the hum of machinery, even if it was her own voice, "that maybe nothing I could have done would have been right? No black or white, only gray?"

Mikaela shifted so more of her back pressed against the metal. Closing her eyes, she just let herself feel the warmth. "No right or wrong… I'm just following a feeling. Things I don't understand." She could feel the metal pulsing almost like a human heart beat. It still amazed her that something made of cold, hard metal could be so alive. "I just wish…I didn't feel so small."

The metal got noticeably warmer and suddenly she felt… uncomfortable. She had been planning on doing more work in the hole, but for some reason she felt a little embarrassed for a reason she couldn't place.

Cheeks flushed, she scrambled to her feet. She shivered, her back feeling colder than she had expected, almost as if it was saddened by the sudden absence of the almost unnatural warmth. Staring at the cylinder, she could feel the hair on her arms raise and tiny goose bumps pop up on her skin. She shook her head, trying to overcome the flushed feel on her cheeks.

She didn't know why, but suddenly she wanted to be somewhere else. She started to climb out of the hole-

"Mi…kaela?"

And almost fell back in.

"Bonecrusher?"

Relief flooded through her system, making her knees feel weak. He had finally woken up, which meant that he was okay. She had been so terrified that something permanent was wrong.

With a grin, she pulled herself completely out of the hole. "Glad to see you're awake."

His single red optic was focused on her, glowing dimly. "Mmm…" Mikaela could feel the sound resonate throughout the giant's body. "Pain's gone."

Mikaela frowned in confusion. "Really?" Was there something else wrong with him now? Could he feel his body at all?

The mech nodded slowly, seemingly only half awake. Maybe that was why he couldn't feel anything.

Carefully, Mikaela made her way closer toward his head. There were a lot of protrusions on the mech's chest, which made it a somewhat difficult journey, but she made it.

"How long?" he asked, his voice softer than she was used to. It was almost like he was whispering.

"About 3 days. You caught yourself on fire." His optic grew a little brighter. "I've, um, been working on it," she finished lamely, hoping the mech wouldn't have another fit. He had made it very clear he didn't want her in his chest, and she had been totally disregarding that wish.

"You… were touching my spark chamber. I felt it."

Mikaela raised an eyebrow at the strange tone to Bonecrusher's voice. She couldn't quite place what it meant. "Is that the cylinder thing? Yeah, I guess I might have brushed up against it."

The single optic turned off, but Mikaela had a feeling Bonecrusher was still very much awake.

"Don't," he said firmly, the lethargy beginning to dissipate.

"Sorry." Mikaela blushed again, although she had no idea why. She just couldn't shake the strange feeling of embarrassment. "I, uh, got a lot done on the inside."

Bonecrusher didn't respond, although his optic light turned back on and fixed on her. She shifted under his gaze, not intimidated by fear, but by something else. She really didn't like the way he was looking at her.

"I think I can fix the thing that's causing the smoke," she said with a smile. Brushing back her hair, she unknowingly left a large black smear on her cheek.

For a long moment the mech continued to pin her with his gaze, but then he finally sighed, a healthy whoosh of air escaping his mouth. She felt the warm draft hit her right in the face, and she found herself thanking God that he didn't have morning breath. She could only imagine the smell something his size could produce.

Surprised by the gesture, she wondered if sighing was a normal bot thing, or if it was something he'd picked up during his time on earth. Robots didn't have lungs, so why would they sigh? And more importantly, why did their breath smell like the inside of her mother's van?

"Very well. It's not like I can keep you out, anyway."

Mikaela grinned widely and wiggled her eyebrows as she took a wrench from her tool belt. "Ready when you are."

The girl paused. "Actually, I've been wanting to ask you what this one thing is. I honestly can't figure it out."

Bonecrusher frowned as the human scurried down the ladder and disappeared out of sight. What was that all about? What part?

Her admitting that she didn't know what a component was didn't make him feel any better about letting her inside his chest. By the Pit, she didn't even know what it was, and she had still taken it completely out to tinker with it!

Letting this human work on him had to be the worst idea he'd ever had, but it wasn't like he had any other choice.

Bonecrusher was left to his thoughts for several minutes until Mikaela came back. In her hands was a part about the size of basketball. It was slightly rounded with all kind of odds and ends sticking out of it. He recognized it instantly.

Bonecrushers optic widened. "That was… in me?"

"No, it was in the Chevy I have out back," the human retorted with a sarcastic eye roll.

Bonecrusher frowned yet again. He actually wished he could do that. The gesture was so obstinate, yet so simple. Even a giant alien with no knowledge of human body language could tell what it meant. He would have loved to do that to a superior or two. Of course, they might have blasted him to the pit, but it still would have been worth it.

"What is it?"

"A special…" Bonecrusher paused. "Hologram is probably the closest word in your language. It's a hologram projector."

He wished he could access the net. The word 'hologram' was accurate, but not complete. It was like calling Hell a hole in the ground. There was just so much more to it.

"My brother Scrapper created it. He… it's unfinished." Bonecrusher tried to force the grief away. It wasn't easy, especially with the knowledge that he was truly the last Contructicon. It was like a flame in his spark, flickering and burning, trying to overwhelm him and leave nothing but ashes.

"Really? I thought it was just broken. I think I fixed it." The girl looked confused as she turned the metal sideways in her hand. "At least, I think I did. The green light came on."

Bonecrusher opened his mouth but nothing came from his vocalizer. Scrapper was a true inventor, a genius, and yet even he couldn't get that thing to work. He had spent several vorns on it, before other issues had forced his attention elsewhere. Who the hell was this girl?

"Want me to hook it back up?"

"Y..Yes."

This girl didn't know what she was doing. There was no way…

Mikaela climbed down into his chest, and for several long minutes, he could feel her working.

When she finished hooking the device back into place, Bonecrusher's mind went blank as a ready icon appeared at the corner of his vision. She had actually done it. He couldn't do a detailed diagnostic, but even with his limited abilities, it appeared to be working.

"Okay. It's connected," she called out as she once again climbed out of his chest.

Bonecrusher quickly went through the routines and booted up the projector, the machine humming as he rerouted the power.. He wasn't sure what would happen, so he tried not to get excited. The girl didn't know what she was doing. It was highly unlikely the machine would actually work like it was supposed to.

If it _did_ work, however, it would no long matter that he couldn't move. He wouldn't be dependant on the human anymore.

"So what does it…AHHHH!" Mikaela screamed as a man suddenly appeared in front of her. A very, very NAKED man.

The wrench in her hand was then used in a way its makers never really intended. She chucked it at the strange man's head with all the strength she had.

THUNK!

"OW! What was that for!" a familiar voice thundered.

Wait a minute, she knew that voice. It didn't have the mechanical hum to it, but it was still the same voice. Even coming from a human, it was smooth and deep, seeming to resonate in the air.

"Bone…Bonecrusher!?" Mikaela squeaked, a hammer in her hand and ready to fly. A single red eye, not optic, glared at her mutely.

Trying to catch her breath, she studied the man in front of her. He was tall, seven feet if he was an inch, and built like a linebacker. He had dark brown hair, cut short and wild, and on his left arm was what appeared to be a tattoo of the Decepticon symbol. His single eye was the strangest she'd ever seen; the outer rim outlined in dark crimson, lightening to a pale red where the pupil should have been. The different shades, as well as the color, was shocking to look at. It looked like the eye of a demon, an illusion helped by the grotesquely empty second socket.

"A hologram?" she gasped, trying to calm her racing heart. That was no hologram. Her wrench had hit solid flesh. "What kind of hologram can feel pain?"

She was practically reeling from shock, but she didn't lower the hammer. No matter how she looked at it, this was bad. Either there was a stranger in her garage, or Bonecrusher was somehow a HUGE guy that could move. Either way, the tenuous feeling of safety she'd enjoyed had just vanished in a puff of smoke.

The man rubbed his head one last time before looking down at himself. "This is…strange."

He looked back at Mikaela and frowned. "I think it's malfunctioning."

"Huh?" 

"I'm a lot larger than you." He pointed at Mikaela's boobs and then down at his own chest. "I don't have those, either."

He poked at his chest. "Squishy," he muttered as his skin flexed under his questing fingers.

For a timeless moment, all Mikaela could do was stand there watching as this strange man poked and prodded at himself. She was jolted for her reverie, however, when he discovered the strange dangling bits between his legs.

"WHOA there!" she cried. "Bonecrusher, what the hell? Stop touching that!"

Her face was rapidly turning several shades of red. Bonecrusher looked slightly confused as to why she was yelling at him, but answered her question anyway. "I told you. This is my brother's invention…" The man got a strange, faraway look in his only eye. "Somehow, you managed to finish it. It's a based off a theory of creating matter out of spark energy."

"So…that's…" Mikaela swallowed hard, her mouth feeling very dry. "That's like your body? But what about the body we're standing on?" 

"I'm both. Although, right now, I'm focusing on this… shell."

Taking a careful step forward, Mikaela poked at the giant's arm. Even as a human, he was insanely tall. She wasn't really all that short herself, but she barely came to his chest. He towered over her.

"Weird," she muttered softly. It felt like real human flesh.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What?" Mikaela asked. She was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation. It was all too… weird. A giant alien robot, who could make himself a very solid, fleshy human body.

"I don't have those."

He then proceeded to poke her back. Right on her left breast.

"ACK!" Mikaela screamed as she tried to smash his hand with her hammer. Luckily for Bonecrusher, he proved to be rather quick and yanked his hand back.

"Primus to the Pit, you slagging meat sack! What is your problem!"

"Do NOT touch me there!" Mikaela yelled, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. "And to answer your question, you don't have boobs 'cause you're a guy!"

Bonecrusher looked at her incredulously, and Mikaela forced herself to calm down. He was a giant alien who didn't know any better. He had no idea that he wasn't supposed to touch her there

"Sorry, sorry." Running a hand through her hair, Mikaela took a deep breath. She needed to get under control, before the hysteria she could hear on the edge of her voice overwhelmed her completely. "Okay, so you got a human body."

"I'm still a Cybertronian," the mech felt the need to press, "this is more of a… shell."

"A shell, right. So you're what… pretending to be human?"

Bonecrusher shrugged. "Scrapper designed this machine to blend into organic worlds were our metal bodies could not."

"Blend…right, I think you mean spy. So you can, like, take on other shapes."

The human Bonecrusher nodded. "Not by my will. The machine is programmed to scan the dominate life forms and replicate a body that would…" he paused and shrugged, using all the knowledge of body language he had picked up by watching the humans. "that would most suit the mech's personality and stats. He was forced to abandon the project because Megatron didn't think it was… Well, most Decepticons thought themselves too good to take on a shape like this, even if it meant giving up Intel."

Mikaela lifted an eyebrow. The tone of his voice strongly suggested that Bonecrusher felt the same way. So why did he seem so happy that the machine had worked?

"Okay, so what about you?"

The Mech looked down at himself. "It's kind of disgusting. Still…" He suddenly grinned, and it wasn't a friendly expression. "I can move now."

Mikaela laughed nervously, hammer still held tightly in her hand. "And what do you plan to do now that you can move?"

Mikaela could tell he knew exactly what she was worried about. He had a gleam in his single eye that kind of scared her.

He let her squirm for a while, before finally speaking. "I thought I'd help you fix my chest."

"Really? Uh, why? Can't you do it yourself now?"

she asked, giving him a disbelieving look. That wasn't what she had expected. She had assumed that the mech would threaten her, or possibly try to hurt her.

Bonecrusher nodded, the scary smile leaving his face. "Human, I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Oookay," Mikaela said slowly, putting her hammer back on her tool belt. "First thing's first."

The mech raised an eyebrow in question. Mikaela kept her eyes firmly on Bonecrusher's face, but she couldn't help the embarrassed flush of red that raced to her cheeks. She had been too scared to really care about this before, but now…there was no way in hell she'd work with him as he was.

"We have got to find you some clothes."


	4. New duds, friends, bruises and BABIES?

AN : My awesome and totally skilled beta is taking a breather.

So we're going back to my horrid spell checking ways until otherwise posted.

I'm open to a tempt beta until Diedre comes back though.

Oh and to Xeno the Engorcer: I did not know that. I was just assuming he was a construction vehicle cause he's you know a constructicon. Also I could have sworn, though its been awhile, that I read in the book he was a mining vehicle of some sort? Oh well guess it doesn't matter.

8888

-1Mikaela arms filled with several bags full of clothes, fought to open her front door. Struggling she finally managed to get a couple of fingers on the doorknob and turn it.

Kicking it open she navigated through the to narrow doorway.

She was coming back from an impromptu shopping trip.

Her mind just kept going over what had happened just a few hours ago. Like a broken record, she kept seen the man just appear out of nowhere, over and over again.

Bonecrusher the large alien robot now had a…pretender shell thing that made him look human. He was very tall and big and very VERY naked.

Not only that but he'd yet to do anything to hurt her.

That was kind of surprising but in a good way. She had honestly expected him to attack her now that he could move.

But instead he offered to help her fix him. He didn't need her anymore, he had a body that could fix his real body.

Maybe the stuff she'd been saying was sticking.

There shouldn't be a war anymore. They didn't need to fight, they shouldn't fight.

There would be no more transformers. From what Mikaela could tell the All Spark was the only way they could reproduce.

They just couldn't keep on killing themselves.

"Crush?"

Mikaela set the bags on her kitchen table. She had spent a lot of money on these clothes.

Being a mountain she couldn't just go to some thrift joint. So she had found herself at a big and tall store. Insanely expensive stuff, she felt sorry for big people. They were being taken advantage of just cause they were big and/or tall.

She wasn't even sure this stuff would fit him. He might need custom fitted clothing.

Bonecrusher came walking in holding a picture frame. She blushed bright red and tried to avoid looking down.

"Is this Megatron's killer?"

He asked no hint of hostility in his voice.

"Questions later, clothes now."

"Why do you humans insist on covering your bodies?"

He asked as Mikaela handed him a package of underwear.

"Just cause, you wanna pretend to be a human, ya gotta dress like one!"

She had no desire to discuss human customs with a 7ft naked man in her kitchen.

The mech sighed and took a moment to figure out the clothes she handed him. Mikaela was impressed, he managed to get everything on without her explaining where it went.

Now fully dressed in some jeans and a Harley Davison t-shirt she couldn't help but notice that Bonecrusher made a very handsome human. Not in the conventional standards of beauty. But in an unrefined way. He wasn't handsome like Trent or even the more down to earth cute that Sam was.

He kind of looked like a cross between a battle weary soldier and a construction worker.

His skin was tanned and slightly leathery. It didn't have the pits and dips a lot of people with that type of skin had though, just the barest hint of a five o'clock shadow.

His jaw was square with high cheekbones, and his hair was a sloppy mess of a mop on his head. His nose was straight and a little broad. He had frown lines around his mouth and eyes. Like she thought before, he wasn't handsome to most people, but Mikaela could definitely see a type of appeal.

Simply put to her, he looked good. Mikaela shook her head. Ok that was not a line of thought she wanted to continue.

"Oh I got this for you too."

Reaching into a bag Mikaela produced an eye patch.

"Why are you missing an eye anyway?"

She asked as she helped Bonecrusher put the patch on.

"Cause I lost it in the fight."

"Smartass."

She left it at that, not sure she'd understand his real answer anyway.

Bonecrusher looked down picking at the t-shirt. He seemed uncomfortable, but hell Mikaela figured if she suddenly became a cybertronian she'd feel uneasy as well.

"So can you like go anywhere you want, or does it have a limit on distance."

"It should be alright as long as I don't leave the planet."

"Ok, what about food and uh…bodily functions?"

God she didn't want to give Bonecrusher the bathroom rundown.

"This form will need neither."

"Good. The power plug still doing your uh real body ok?"

"Yes."

Mikaela wasn't looking forward to this months power bill, but what could she do?

Bonecrusher needed fuel and gasoline just wasn't safe with all the work she was doing inside his body.

"Is this the boy that killed Megatron?"

He asked again.

"Ya that's Sam."

"You know he saved your world."

Mikaela nodded.

"I know."

"Yet you don't want to be his mate? He will probably have a secured future. Isn't that what female humans want?"

Mikaela snorted. This was weird, so the big bad alien was asking her why she'd broken up with Sam.

"Is this another one of your survival of the fittest talks?"

"No."

He set the picture down.

"I'm not sure how much I'll be able to repair myself."

He said getting down to business.

"The pain and the double feedback may be to much for my processor."

"Guess I'm still the fix it up girl."  
So that answered that question. Bonecrusher still needed her. Was that why he didn't get violent when he took on the shell body? For being an evil alien he'd been somewhat tolerable.

Together they walked back out toward the garage. Mikaela readied herself for another long work night.

"What the?"

Mikaela frowned as she noticed a familiar blue SUV in her driveway. She glanced sideways at Bonecrusher noticing he was frowning harshly.

What the hell was Mrs. Jenkins doing back already? It was almost closing time for the shop. If anything was wrong with the car she should have just called.

"Oh no. Just a second Crush."

Picking up her pace Mikaela ran over to the car.

"Mrs. Jenkins?"

The elder woman smiled.

"Ah deary there you are. I was afraid you were gone."

Mikaela glanced behind her and pale as she noticed Bonecrusher slowly making his way toward them.

"Is something wrong Mrs. Jenkins…I'm a little busy."

"Oh no. I just thought I'd invite you to a cook out my husband is having tonight."

The woman snorted.

"If you come there'll at least be someone there with intelligence. I swear my husband and his friends. A bunch of pigs!"

Mikaela forced herself not to flinch.

"Mrs. Jenkins I'd like to but…"

"Oh my WhhOOoo is this?"

Jenkins said as she finally noticed the mountain walking toward them.

"I uh, Mrs. Jenkins you need to go."

The woman looked between the large man and Mikaela. She suddenly grinned suggestively.

"Ah I see."  
"Mrs. Jenkins!"

Mikaela yelped horrified at what the woman might say.

"Mikaela dear, why do you introduce this strapping young man."

"Oh god."

She muttered praying that Bonecrusher wouldn't harm her customer or do something stupid.

"Mrs. Jenkins, this is uh Crush."

"Crush? Is that a nickname?"

Bonecrushers eye narrowed as he crossed his arms. Mrs. Jenkins didn't seem to notice the glare.

"Why honey why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone."

Mrs. Jenkins leaned toward Mikaela and said in a loud whisper Bonecrusher would have no trouble hearing.

"He's very handsome Mikaela. Roarrww!"

Mikaela bite back a choke her face flaming hotly. She remembered her thoughts a moment ago. Most people wouldn't consider Bonecrusher handsome but apparently Mrs. Jenkins was not most people.

"Mrs. Jenkins he's not…"

"Why don't you come too young man?"

Bonecrusher raised an eyebrow but he didn't say or do anything particularly menacing.

"Please Mrs. Jenkins."

"Oh come now girl. You're always working. You've been in this town two months already."

"I don't think…"

"Sure."

Bonecrusher said to Mikaela's utter shock. What the hell was he thinking?

He glanced toward her and grinned.

"That's wonderful! See you both tonight."

With that Mrs. Jenkins turned and went to her SUV.

Mikaela watched her leave the horror of what just happened hitting her full on.

"What the hell!?"

Bonecrusher laughed. It was hearty and just a little bit creepy but it was still a laugh, the first she'd heard from him.

"I'm curious. what is a cook out?"

He asked as he turned going back into the house.

"it's a…party with grilled food. Anyway don't change the subject! I thought you'd want to get your body fixed!?"

Bonecrusher rolled his eye, and absolutely loved it. It felt as good as he thought it would.

He placed the gesture among things he liked about humans. It was a short list, with the eye roll and the saying survival of the fittest being the only things on it.

"It might come as a shock human, but I'm in no hurry for another one of your torture sessions. I've been on-duty stuck in a Construction zone for the past four years. I'm sick of doing nothing!"

"Four years!?"

Mikaela squeaked in surprise.

"You've been on the planet for four years?"

Bonecrusher nodded.

"I was the first to arrive."

Mikaela stared for several moments. Her planet had been in danger for that long? It was hard to believe she had been stealing cars when Bonecrusher first landed.

"Bonecrusher, we can't do this. You're not…you don't the first thing about blending in. Fuck your 7ft tall for crying out loud! You've got a red eye, that's not normal human!"

Mikaela flailed her arms much to Bonecrushers amusement.

"Do you want to have the government banging down my door? We have to be incognito!"

"I've been incognito for four years and look where it landed me."

"You got hurt trying to kill Optimus Prime that's hardly incognito."

She pointed out. She could feel a horrible headache coming on. Bonecrusher couldn't possibly want to do this. Why would he want to go to a cook out?

"This is a very…very bad idea!"

"I'm looking toward the future."

"What?"

Bonecrusher crossed his arms. The gesture brought to Mikaela's attention how large those arms were. They weren't cut like Tents had been, the product of countless workouts and weights. They were pure natural power. The type of strength one is born with not worked on.

"the future, I can't fly, so I can't leave the planet. I also can't just take a walk."

Bonecrusher shook his head as he pulled out a chair and sat down. Mikaela winced as the little cheap breakfast table chair creaked in protest at the weight bearing down on it.

"I refuse to die. If need be I will wait for a millennia. But I don't think waiting will help this situation."

"So you wanna explore, mingle?"

"Something like that."

He admitted reluctantly. After all what was the point of having this amazing invention finally working if he didn't use it. Maybe he could do research and figure out a way to get off the planet. He could use one of the human computers to get online. He wasn't an inventor like his brother, but he was a smart mech. He could slap something together if need be.

"This is a nightmare."

Mikaela said sitting down at the table too.

"Ok…just promise me Bonecrusher, that you won't hurt anyone. Or get us discovered."

Bonecrusher grinned widely, showing perfect straight and white teeth.

"I can promise to do one of those things."

Mikaela stared at him wide eyed for several moments.

"I going to take a bath."

An hour later Mikaela came back into the kitchen, clean, dressed and ready for a party.

She felt calm and collected. The shower had felt great, just what she needed.

She also enjoyed the dressing up. It'd been awhile since she had any reason to wear nice clothes or makeup.

Pulling up her hair she put in a clip to keep it out of her eyes.

"Bonecrusher, we should come up with a story."

The mech had moved from the kitchen to the living room and had apparently made himself comfortable on her couch.

He turned his neck to look behind him.

_Geez the ways he's sprawled across that couch he looks just like a normal guy. _

"A story?"

"Duh Crush. These are my neighbors, and neighbors are nosy as hell. They'll be asking questions. Especially Mrs. Jenkins. She uh thinks that we're…uh."

Mikaela blushed.

"She thinks we're mates?"  
Bonecrusher snorted apparently greatly amused by this thought.

"The term is boyfriend and girlfriend and ya that's what she thinks."

Draping his arms on the back of the couch Bonecrusher put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Tell her what you want. I don't care."

Eyes narrowed Mikaela walked over to the couch and slapped at Bonecrushers feet.

"Feet off the table! And Goddamn it Bonecrusher. Do you want the Autobots to find you!?"

Mikaela didn't know what really happened after that. One moment Bonecrusher was sprawled on her couch. The next she found herself being slammed against the wall.

She opened her mouth to scream, but a large hand wrapped itself around her throat.

Gasping in fear she reached up trying to dislodge it.

She couldn't breath!

She scratched at the hand, tried to kick with her feet, but Bonecrusher might have been a brick wall for all the damage she did.

How could someone so big move so fast?

"the Autobots won't find me unless you tell them!"

He hissed into her ear. Mikaela bite her lip trying not to cry. She couldn't let Bonecrusher know how much this hurt, or how much he was terrifying her.

Bonecrusher took another step closer to her. She could feel the heat from his body.

"You seem to forget Meat bag who you are dealing with?"

Mikaela couldn't tell but she was pretty sure her lips were turning blue. He had yet to loosen his grip on her throat. She tried to struggle but was quickly running out of steam.

Spots starting to appear in front of her eyes.

Oh god he was going to kill her after all!

Mikaela tried to scream again. She didn't want to die! Not like this, she had survived that terrible battle in Mission city only to croak like this! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair!

A tiny squeak somehow managed to escape her lips.

At that sound, the ugly lines on Bonecrushers face smoothed out. A more confused look replaced it. For several seconds his red eye flickered back and forth from her eyes to her lips as if trying to understand the sound she had made.

He abruntly let go as if he suddenly realized he was killing her.

Mikaela fell to the floor hacking and coughing. Reaching up she touched the already sore and bruising flesh. Well that gave a who new meaning to the term death grip.

"You humans are so fragile."

Bonecrusher muttered softly, looking down at her.

Mikaela opened her mouth but wasn't able to speak. She lowered her head wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape her control.

Bonecrushers footsteps sounded unnatural loud as he walked away.

Mikaela shook her head, her hair falling down into her face. She felt so weak.

God what was she doing?

Bonecrusher had very nearly just killed her.

Mikaela considered herself a strong girl. She had been through a lot as a child, even more with Sam.

But right this second her body simply refused to move. She could hardly breath. It felt like her throat had been caved in. And for a horrifying few moments she wondered if Bonecrusher really had crushed her throat.

_Breath in…calm down. Just breath, you can do that Mikaela._

She chanted to herself.

She just had to breath.

The footsteps came back, and Mikaela found herself flinching.

"What do you want to tell the nosey humans then?"

She stiffened her back, trying to reign in her fear. Something told her if she acted afraid things would go sour a lot quicker and deadlier than the incident that just happened.

Bonecrusher was like a predator. He could probably smell her fear.

Slowly she got to her feet. Swallowing painfully she looked up straight at Bonecrusher.

He was frowning at her.

He didn't do or say anything. He seemed to be waiting for her. Waiting as if expecting something.

"Tha…"

Mikaela broke into a coughing fit. Her throat spasmed as she once again had to fight for control.

Don't show fear, don't show weakness. Bonecrusher had already made his views on weaklings very clear. He was constantly giving her talked about survival of the fittest. If it was weak, if he could destroy it, then it deserved to be destroyed.

"That you're a friend from Tranquility coming over to help me with the shop."

The strange look on Bonecrushers face disappeared once she forced the sentence passed her abused throat.

"Hired muscle?"

Bonecrusher could deal with that. That's what he did before the war…hell that's what he did during the war.

He didn't care. He didn't have to answer the nosey humans if they asked him questions he didn't want to answer. He thought the girl was being overly worried. Neither the Autobots or the government was likely to connect this human body to his mech form.

After all this was his brothers invention. No one had ever even considered the possibilities of using more than just the standard hologram.

No one knew about it.

He just wanted to get out. Do something other than sit and brood. He was sick of waiting, sick of being in pain.

"We leaving then?"

"Give me a moment."

Mikaela snubbed the need to rub at her throat. She couldn't show weakness. He might pounce on her again.

Turning she went to her room. She quickly closed and locked the door behind her.

She didn't want to look.

However Mikaela still couldn't keep her eyes away from the vanity mirror on top of her dresser.

"Oh god."

She managed to rasp out.

No wonder her throat hurt so bad. Bonecrusher had really done a number on it.

Clear bands of blue were already forming around ugly red marks in the shape of fingers.

It really did look like someone had tried to murder her.

Gods above what was she going to do. She couldn't go to the cook out looking like this. Mrs. Jenkins would take one look and call the cops.

Going to her dresser Mikaela searched frantically for a few minutes.

She had several choker necklaces, or maybe a scarf would be better.

Finally she picked a pretty pink scarf. It was very sheer and light so it wouldn't look out of place since it was getting warmer out.

It matched her outfit and would look cute. It wasn't perfect but it would cover the bruises and hopefully not attract to much attention.

Now if only she could talk normal.

_Can always blame a unchewed potato chip or something. _

She'd done that before. Swallowing only to find a piece of the food wasn't chewed all that well. It had scratched her throat all the way down, causing a sore throat for almost three days.

Rubbing her throat Mikaela allowed herself to shudder in horror.

She had been so close to dieing. Bonecrusher was killing her, and what made it worse was she didn't think he actually meant to.

He had wanted to scare her, maybe push her around a little, to show her she shouldn't mess with him.

_I'm getting to comfortable around him. _

That was her problem. She didn't fear him. Hell even now she didn't think she was scared of him. She was scared shitless of dieing, but not of Bonecrusher.

It was weird.

He could kill her without even meaning to. That was what scared her.

Mikaela looked in the mirror again, making sure the marks were hidden.

This was going to be a disaster she just knew it. There was no way they would going to get through this wouldn't questions being raised.

Hell she had her doubts whether or not they'd get through it without a body count.

8888

Judy shifted nervously.

She wasn't really sure what to think about all that had been happening.

First her yard gets destroyed by some weird government agency. They get handcuffed and thrown into a van, kept in a tiny (although comfortable) room with no idea about what was going on or where their son was.

She had been so worried those three days. No one would tell her anything about Sam.

Ron had been furious and was threatening to sue the government for so much money they would have to sell California back to the Mexicans to pay for it.

_Sam was almost killed._

Judy shuddered. She had been worried for her boy, but hadn't even considered the thought he was in mortal danger. The men in suits had been rude but they didn't do anything that translated into being dangerous in Judy's mind.

The Robot Bumblebee had showed her a picture thing of Megatron. She couldn't help but be curious over something that had threatened her boy so.

She had nearly fainted when the bot had created a life-sized hologram.

IT HAD BEEN HUGE!

This thing that had attacked her son didn't look anything like Bumblebee. The yellow camero was large to her, but also had a very gentle almost goofy look to him.

This Megatron was all spikes and pointy teeth and hard cold red eyes.

It had terrified her.

She didn't understand…how did her boy stand up to something like that.

This was a creature that had literally torn his own world asunder. Had murdered and destroyed so much for such a very long time.

He was a powerful and evil monster!

And her boy had told him no.

_I will never give you this All-Spark._

Judy rubbed her arms slightly. The night had a bit of a chill to it. She and Ron were currently at make out point, or as the kids nowadays called it, the lookout. They were waiting for Sam and Bee to meet up with them. Sam hadn't said a lot but Judy figured he was going to take them to meet up with Optimus and the others now.

He boy had stood up against the very devil incarnate.

It scared her so very much, and at the same time made her so proud.

She didn't know what to think about it. This entire thing was insane.

"You know…"

Ron began. He was half sitting half leaning on the front of his porche.

"I didn't really believe Sam."

"Ron!"

Judy snapped scandalized. She was sitting beside her husband her feet on the front bumper, wrapped tightly in a blanket they kept in the trunk.

"What?"

Ron said although Judy could detect some hint of guilt in his voice.

"I thought it was one of those…you know, humor the crazy person till we got him to a doctor and on some serious medication."

Ron ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"Seriously Judy, did you believe him?"

"Of course."

She said with conviction then continued.

"You said you believed him Ron. You should have more faith in our son."

"I know."

Ron said with a sigh.

"It was just…I kept thinking how great grandda went nuts and…well he was talking about aliens Judy. Giant ROBOT aliens and that the car I helped him buy at Bobby Bolvias, like the country without the runs, was one of them."

Judy clinked her tongue disapprovingly.

"I can't believe you didn't believe him."

Ron nodded, both knew he'd be feeling guilty over this for probably the rest of his life. Softly he spoke again.

"Our son grew up baby."

Judy stiffened slightly, no longer feeling the chill of the night.

"He went off and became a man…a soldier."

Ron continued with a hint of pride as well as sadness in his voice. Reaching over Judy took her husbands hand.

"Its alright Ron."

"I don't know. I mean…"

He shook his head again as if trying to clear it. Judy watched as he took a couple of breaths, the cold night turning the warm exhaustion into steam.

"I tried so hard to show Sam what a man should be. I make him do chores, his school work, his first car was crap like its suppose to be. I made him work for everything to be a good hard working man."

Judy remained silent, letting her husband rant. She had sensed since Sam had told them that something was bothering him although she had assumed it had more to do with aliens than this.

"Despite all of that he still didn't…I mean, Sam was a good kid, but he didn't understand. No Sacrifice no Victory. He didn't understand, not really."

Judy patted her husbands hand.

"He went and grew up without you. That's what's bothering you isn't it."

Ron closed his eyes. It was a beautiful night, not a cloud in the sky, the stars twinkling brightly. Tonight they seemed so much more than usual. Looking up he couldn't help but wonder what else was up there. If giant alien robots that looked like cars existed…what else sat up there just waiting to be discovered.

"I'm so proud of him…but I can't help but think it was those robots that showed him what sacrifice truly means. He was just a kid, then they show up, and now he's so much more."

The silence that settled was heavy. Judy could hear Ron breathing, the soft puffs against the background of far away vehicles on the highway. The night had a stillness to it. Despite the chill and the silence Judy couldn't help but enjoy it. It had been so long since she had sat out in the dark under the stars just her and Ron.

"You know Ron."

She whispered softly, leaning her body to rest against his. In the distance a dog barked.

"I think Sam did understand."

Judy smiled. Ron despite the lose of hair and the added weight was still so very handsome to her eyes. She loved him so much.

How her mother had hounded her, saying they hadn't know each other long enough to get married, how they were to young and stupid. How it would never last.

Yet here they were 17 years later and she loved him more now than she did then.

"Sam is who he is now because of you. This war might have been shoved into his lap thanks to your great grandfather, but it was you that taught him courage and to stand up for what he believed in."

Shivering slightly Judy let go of Ron's hand to tighten the blanket around herself.

"He's a hero Ron. He saved the world. Literally saved the world…possible the universe."

Judy looked up as well, looking out to the stars.

"No Sacrifice no Victory, that's all because of you Ron. Sam just never had a chance to show you."

"Hmmm."

She felt the rumble of his chest. He wasn't outright disagreeing but he didn't agree either.

"Didn't this used to be Make out point, we used to come here didn't we?"

Judy said to get a smile out of Ron.

"Ya. I think so."

"I remember when Daddy caught us here together."

Judy chuckled softly. They had been so young, not even out of high school. But she had known, known even before Ron had uttered his first words to her that she would marry him.

"Hmm."

Ron rumbled again, this time with a hint of amused humor to it.

Reaching over further Judy kissed Ron's cheek.

"That's when I first told Daddy my plans for you."

Judy chuckled again. Considering she had only been dating Ron two weeks at that point. Her father thought she was nuts.

"I remember. The look on his face when you said I was the man you were going to marry."

Judy blinked, turning so she could look at her husbands face.

"You heard us!? I didn't know that."

Ron nodded.

"Well you both were rather loud."

"And I didn't scare you away?"

It had never occurred to Judy that Ron had heard the heated discussion between father and daughter.

"I'll admit I was kind of surprised. I knew ya liked me…"

Ron paused as he remembered sitting in his piece of crap pinto, hearing the girl he was dating tell her very large father that she was going to marry him.

He had felt mind numbing panic for several seconds until the truth had hit him.

"But…"

Ron continued.

"It hit me after a few seconds that that was exactly what I wanted too. I just hadn't realized it yet."

Judy laughed.

"Ron you scoundrel."

Before Ron could answer they heard the familiar roar of a certain not car.

Twisting on the hood Judy turned to watch the headlights.

"Ron…"  
Judy whispered softly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever…I mean…do you ever think of having more kids?"  
Judy smiled as Ron almost fell off the car in surprise. Still speaking in the soft whisper she continued.

"We're not to old to have another."

Ron turned to her and blinked.

"I know that."

His voice gruff.

"what brought this about?"  
Ron asked a hint of emotion in his voice. Judy couldn't decide if it was curiosity, or dread.

"I had a dream last night that I was holding a baby."

Ron cleared his throat.

"You know that dream baby could just as easily be Sam's?"

"We're not to old."

Judy restated her voice firm.

"No we're not."

Ron agreed.

"MOM DAD!"  
Whatever else was going to be said would have to wait as their son fairly flew out of his yellow car. He was wearing a huge grin and much to their surprise military garb.

"What do you think?"  
He did a circle.

"Lennox sent this to me. He said I should get used to it."

Judy jumped off the car and ran to her son. She was glowing in pride.

"OH Sammy."

Ron watched silently as his wife fussed and primped over their only son.

"A baby…"

He sighed softly as he stood up as well.

"We aren't to old. HEY SON."

He finished the sentence much louder.

"You look so handsome."

Judy continued.

"Ya I'm kind of surprised. Who knew I could look good."  
Ron chuckled as he came over and heartily slapped Sam on the back.

"We'll see how good you look when your dirty, sweaty, carrying a 50 lb bag and got sand in places that ain't right."

Bumblebee laughed at that as he transformed. Both Judy and Ron took a step back, half in awe, half in worry that they might get stepped on.

Sam, Ron noticed didn't even twitch. He trusted his yellow car that much.

It was then that both Ron and Judy noticed the other cars coming.

The strangest assembly of cars that Ron could imagine.

A large peterbuilt truck, a GMC topkick, an emergency vehicle and an old although shiny gray datsun.

"What the?"

Sam looked confused a moment. Sam pointed at each vehicle counting off as he did.

"One two three four…one two…Bee?"

Bumblebee chuckled.

"You were sleeping when he landed. I thought we would surprise you. Sam meet Bluestreak. He's one of the best sharpshooters there are."

With that quick introduction all of the vehicles transformed.

"Good lord."

Ron choked out as Bumblebee did in fact prove to be one of the smaller ones. He took note that the car size seemed to be directly proportionate to robot size.

"Greetings, Creators of Samuel Witwicky."

"That'd be parents Optimus."

After correcting the Autobot, Sam said in a hushed tone to his father.

"They downloaded English from the net, but…a lot of words don't really have a direct translation. And be careful about expressions or slang words…sometimes they just don't get it."

Ron nodded still staring at the largest of the group. That had to be Optimus Prime.

Sam, Ron noticed was already walking over to the blue gray Datsun. It was smaller than Bumblebee although not by much. The robot was fairly dancing in place with excitement as it met his boy. Its eyes glowed bright blue and its strangely very human looking face was in the biggest smile Ron had ever seen.

"Sam is an amazing human."

Ron startled as he realized that the two story robot had somehow snuck up on him. The large not semi truck very slowly lowered himself down into a sitting position, probably to make it easier for them to talk. Ron was struck by how soft spoken and gentle the giant seem to be. His ever movement seemed to be focused so that he wouldn't cause alarm or harm to the two new humans beside him.

Finally Ron found his voice.

"Ya, Sam's something alright."

Ron could hear stuff moving inside Optimus Body. Clicks and whirls as the robot found a comfortable position to sit and talk.

"I would like to apologize Creat…PARENT of Samuel Witwicky."

"Please. Just call me Ron."

Optimus nodded.

"Ron. I apologize for putting your son in danger. We had hoped only to get the glasses and the cube then leave this system. I did not want to put any human in danger, especial one so young."

Ron hadn't expected an apology. After all from what he understood the Autobots had won.

Sam hadn't gotten hurt beyond a few bruises although he suspected the boy was having nightmares. Still…the apology made Ron feel, well he felt less put upon.

It was just another little thing that had been bothering him, why them? Why Sam?

Although he understood it was all because of Captain Witwicky Ron will couldn't help but wonder why.

And maybe he was being selfish, asking why them, when Optimus and his people had been in a war for so long. The entire world…no the Universe was in danger and all could Ron think was why couldn't someone else do it.

He hated that Sam got hurt. Even now he was scared that some Decipicon might come and try to take him away.

Ron wondered if the others worried about revenge.

Someone bent on revenge couldn't be counted on to do what you expected them too.

Was his son still in danger?

And THAT was the reason Ron wasn't bitching about the army. Sam would get trained, he would learn how to protect himself.

In the end the apology made Ron realize that Optimus and these robots didn't want any of this more than he did.

All one could do was suck it up, be a man.

Just like his boy did.

"Thank you."

Optimus turned his great head to look at him. Ron couldn't really guess what the giant was thinking, but he had a sneaky suspicious he knew exactly why Ron was saying thank you.

"You're government wants to take your family off the grid."

Ron frowned as he tried to figure out what that meant. He had an idea, after all he did watch movies like Terminator and Borne identity.

"Off the grid, you mean like unlisted number and stuff."

Optimus nodded.

"Not just your communications devices, everything. I believe we should take this precaution."  
"Make it impossible to find out where Sam lives…right? Is my son still in danger?"

Optimus paused a moment, blue eyes turned to look at Sam who was laughing loudly at both Bee and Bluestreak.

"For now he is safe. Bumblebee would give his life for your son. However we must take into consideration Decipicons are ruthless. They may see you and your wife as a target as well."

Ron swallowed hard. He had not thought of that.

"We received the transmissions of more Autobots."

Again Optimus paused, letting Ron absorb that information.

"We don't know who they are yet, but if any are willing and able I would like to place a guardian for you and your wife as well. Bumblebee would do it but he will go with your son to training then later to Qatar."

Ron was about to say something when Racket came up to Optimus. Ron felt his throat tighten up at the serious look on the medics face.

"I identified the signals on the incoming."

Optimus's eyes brightened.

"So soon?"

"You'll be pleased to hear that Prowl is among them."

Ron watched Optimus's face. Whoever this prowl was must be important cause Optimus seemed to relax marginally at the name, however his eyes also darkened slightly in what Ron guessed was sadness.

"I am glad, but also saddened. He will not deal well with Jazz's death…Who else?"

"Arcee and Springer."

Optimus nodded pleased.

"Arcee has done guardian duty before."

"Wheeljack."

Ron wondered who Wheeljack was. Optimus had stiffened in surprise and Ratchets face was utterly annoyed.

"Hmmm…"

"Optimus, permission to just shoot him out of the sky?"

"Denied."

Ratchet didn't give up.

"It would be less of a hassle, he'd just do it to himself sooner or later."

"Denied Ratchet."

Ratchet made a deep grinding noise deep within his chest. Optimus chuckled.

"One would think you'd be happier to see your bonded after so long?"

Ratchet straightened.

"I am happy, but I'll also miss what sanity I managed to regain in his absence."

At this Optimus laughed. The sound was loud and booming. Ron didn't know what he was laughing about but smiled anyway. It was such a rich and welcoming sound.

Optimus once again turned his attention to Ron.

"Arcee is a strong and able warrior. If she is willing I'll have her guard your home."

"She?"

Ron asked in surprise. Optimus's eyes brightened.

"Not a 'she' like your species. But yes She would be right."

"Huh?"

"Arcee is a Femme, a transformer that was designed to look like a female, but we really don't have genders. Her design isn't for reproduction."

"What's it for then?"

Ron asked titling his head. Optimus chuckled.

"Why does your porche look so different from a truck. Its all about design. Her creator was an explorer. He had gone to planets with organic beings and thought the female form was more pleasing to the eye. So he designed his sparklings body after it."

"Can't argue with him there."

Ron said with a wide grin.

"So when are they coming?"

Optimus glanced at Ratchet. They didn't say anything but Ron had the distinct impression they were talking somehow.

"in an hour or so. We are about to leave to met with them."

Ratchet finally said.

"Excuse me, I should warn Ironhide and threaten Bluestreak before WheelJack lands."

With that the medic walked off.

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"What was that about?"

Optimus paused, not sure how to explain the weirdest bonding he'd ever witnessed.

Most Bots bonded with those they had things in common with. They met fell in love and decided to make it more.

Much like the human version of marriage, er sort of. It was like marriage only permanent, you couldn't even think about cheating, and it involved your spark or soul as the humans put it.

Ratchet loved Wheeljack without a doubt, but at the same time Optimus had a suspicion that he didn't like the inventor very much. Their personalities clashed in such a way it sometimes caused the normally calm and collected medic to turn violent. Not that he would actually seriously hurt his bonded, but that didn't stop him from occasional going after the inventor with a welding torch or a saw and chasing him around.

It was as amusing as it was disturbing. Most bonded couples couldn't stand to hurt one another physically, yet Ratchet left scraps and dents whenever he got annoyed enough.

Course he only got that mad when Wheeljack did something incredibilty dangerous and stupid.

So maybe Ratchet felt the thrown objects and the occasional chase was something that needed to be done to insure that Wheeljack didn't completely forget himself and get killed.

He'd never seen such a strange pairing before.

If Jazz and Prowl and went through with it, they would have been a close second.

Optimus frowned. Prowl would be devastated to learn of Jazz's death. What was worse Prime wasn't sure how the tactician would take it. Would be be saddened but also glad that they hadn't gone that far and thus saved him the pain of losing a part of himself, or would he feel like he'd wasted the time they had had together by not bonding right away.

Prowl for being a bot of logic could also be very difficult to anticipate.

"Wheeljack…"  
Optimus said forcing himself to focus on the humans questions. Worrying about what would happy wouldn't help anything. He'd would just have to make due when the time came.

"Is an inventor. He's very good…the best Cybertrons seen in thousands of Vorns. But he's also…"

Optimus searched the net for something that might explain the inventor.

"Ah…a mad scientist as you humans put it."

That term was actually very accurate. He didn't expect the humans to have a word for what Wheeljack was.

"A lot of his experiments tend to blow up."

"Oh boy…"

"Still…he will be invaluable. We are lucky he is coming so soon. With him I'm sure we can make a global defense grid that will protect the planet if Starscream returns."

With that Optimus stood up.

"You are welcome to join us in greeting our companions."

Ron blinked surprised then nodded.

"Sure."

888

Ratchet watched the third streak of light hit the earth.

Beside him the other Autobots were meeting and greeting Arcee and Springer.

The Femme and Triple changer were exactly like Ratchet remembered. Several vorns hadn't changed them a bit.

Arcee was just as sweet sounding, and Springer was just as friendly.

Ratchet at the moment could care less.

He could feel it now. Something he hadn't felt for so long, so long in fact he doubted it was healthy. He knew personally what happened when separation complexes set in. Sometimes sparks couldn't handle long distances. It was never pretty when the bots cracked.

He could see flashing lights now, and could hear the hum of an engine.

"Wheeljack."

Ratchet said softly all of his sensors focused on the incoming vehicle.

He then transformed and with a bleep from his sirens raced to meet his bonded halfway leaving the welcoming party far behind. He'd rather they be somewhat alone anyway. Too many optics not to mention eyes for Ratchets comfort. Even back on Cybertron before the war he'd been a private bot.

Wheeljacks very bright yellow lights clashed horrible with his.

Was Ratchets first thought as he got a good look at the vehicle mode.

Wheeljack was a roadside assistance vehicle. White with green and red strips down the side.

It fit his personality perfectly.

_Hey_

Ratchet forced himself not to shiver as Wheeljacks voice echoed in his processor. Primus he had missed that sound. He'd been half afraid the long absence would have impaired this ability. After all not all bonded bots could hear each others thoughts.

_Hello WheelJack._

Wheeljack did shudder, then transformed, Ratchet followed suit.

He looked slightly different, but then again so did Ratchet. Taking alt modes did that to a bot.

Stepping forward Ratchet lifted his arms. He hesitated a moment, then gently placed his hands on each side of WheelJacks face.

The lighted vocal indicators were still the same. Ratchet could even feel the heat from the entry as well as the scanning process.

Ratchet leaned forward and rested his forehead against WheelJacks.

Wheeljack turned off his optics leaning into the contact.

"Primus, I missed you."

Wheeljack muttered softly. Ratchet let one hand fall down to his shoulder, feeling along the new contours.

"I'm just glad you still have all of your extremities."

Wheeljack chuckled softly he was going to say more but was interrupted as two loud booms echoed through the air.

This startled Ratchet enough to distract him from Wheeljack. Who the hell were those two? They hadn't shown up on the scans. Ratchet felt slightly panicked in worry until he noticed Wheeljack lift his head to glance where the bots landed.

There was no surprise on the inventors face. So that lead the medic to believe he already knew about them.

Wheeljack to Ratchets surprise took a step back away from him. He grumbled wondering what could be so important about those two unknown bots to distract Wheeljack from his own bonded. He felt jealously flare up in his spark. He wanted Wheeljack all to himself until he was finally convinced this was all real and that Wheeljack was really on Earth.

Reluctantly Ratchet forced himself to focus on something other than his partner. It was hard, every sensor and scanner wanted to rivet back.

"We got wounded or what?"  
Ratchet said letting his disappointment and slight annoyance filter through his voice.

One couldn't tell through Wheeljacks faceplate but he smiled.

"not wounded. Something…its amazing Ratchet!"

He said while transforming.

Ratchet frowned harshly but transformed to follow the already disappearing Wheeljack.

It took almost no time at all to find the surprisingly small craters.

Still frowning Ratchets sensors scanned the area. Something felt off. He was picking something residue up that wasn't making any sense.

"Little ones?"

Little ones?  
Ratchet's head snapped toward Wheeljack. What the hell?  
Wheeljack was kneeling by a bush. He was whispering softly. Ratchet couldn't make out what he was saying so made his way over.

What he saw shocked him to his core.

"Wh…wheel jack?"

Sparklings

Wheeljack was holding Sparklings. Two of them in fact. They were so small, couldn't be more than a few months old. But HOW the allspark had been destroyed.

There shouldn't be any Sparklings younger than Bumblebee!

The two Sparklings clung to Wheeljacks frame. Tiny claws holding tightly as they turned optics toward him.

One was slightly larger than the other although they looked to be the same age.

But what disturbed Ratchet more than anything was that the larger one had red optics. Yet…according to Ratchets scans both were undoubtedly Autobots.

"Ratchet…this is Grimlock."

Wheeljack inclined his head toward the larger sparkling in his arms.

"This is Swoop."

Grimlock met Ratchet eyes in a confident glare, the other shyly ducked its head under Wheeljacks arm.

"I uh…what…I don't…Wheeljack?"  
Ratchet was at a lose for words.

Until something clicked in his head.

"And you let them make planet fall by themselves!! Are you insane! The heat alone…"

Ratchets scanners were working overtime, looking at the little ones. Thank Primus they seemed to be alright. Intense heat like what reentry caused could be deadly to sparklings. They were so fragile until their upgrades.

Wheeljack cringed under the yell.

"Didn't have a choice."

He tried to say as Ratchet continued to curse his existence as well as bring his sanity into question.

"Prowl said it would be alright!"

He finally got out. Ratchet paused.

"Prowl you say? I'll have a talk with him later!"

Ratchet offlined his optics for a moment. He had scared the sparklings. He could read the heightened functions from here.

"Alright, who's are they? And how…the allspark was on this planet."

Wheeljack shifted.

"Well you see, I might have um…built them while you were gone."  
"What?"

Ratchet said very slowly and carefully. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not even Wheeljack would create sparklings without asking him first. That would be like a human female stop taking the pill without tell her mate.

"Well I thought…you know after you got back and stuff we could talk about it."

"They're…our sparklings."

Ratchet glanced at the tiny protoforms and couldn't deny it. All sparklings had a special bond with their creators. Now that Ratchet knew what to look for he could feel it. He might not have actually physically helped build them, but that hardily mattered. Wheeljack did and he was bonded to the inventor.

Wheeljack laughed nervously.

"Imagine my surprise when three months ago they suddenly came on-line."

Ratchet stared at the sparklings…his babies.

"why the long face hatchet…are you…really that angry at me."

Slowly Ratchet walked over to his bonded…his family.

"No. I'm just sad."

He leaned his head forward, leaning against Wheeljack again. Slowly he brought his hand up. The Sparkling Grimlock reached out for him grabbing onto his fingers with surprising strength. The other was much more shy.

"Why are you sad?"

Wheeljack whispered softly. He'd never seen this behavior from Ratchet before.

"They are the last.

Wheeljack stiffened.

"Ratchet?"

"the Allspark was destroyed."

Wheeljack was shaking now. Never and he meant never did it ever occur to him that the All spark would be destroyed.

"I think…the backlash of energy must have given them life. It happened three months ago."

For several long moments they stood in silence.

Finally Ratchet spoke again.

"You did good Wheeljack. They are perfect."

Wheeljack laughed as Grimlock moved from holding onto him to grabbing at Ratchet.

"Better watch him, he's the trouble maker."

Ratchet was again amazed at how strong the little sparkling seemed to be.

And it wasn't just from the amazing design wheel jack had come up with. No two sparks were the same, each spark had qualities that allowed it to accept different things.

That was why some Mechs couldn't fly, despite the fact this would be a huge advantage to autobots. Flight wasn't just a design thing, it had to be written inside the spark.

The same could be said for uncommon strength, speed, intelligence…anything that made one bot different from another.

Ratchet was a medic because it was in his spark to be one. Wheeljack was an inventor, he could build anything, but wasn't much help in putting a mech back together. He could get by as it was close enough, but it really wasn't something he was good at.

Grimlock was strong and very bold. He was already climbing onto Ratchets shoulders.

He made sounds, sounds Ratchet thought for sure he would never hear again. Soft chirps and beeps, sounds of a sparkling who had yet to learn cybertronian.

"We best get back to the others."  
Ratchet finally said. He didn't want to, he wanted to be alone with his new family. But duty came first and Optimus Prime needed to know about this.


	5. Screams and visions

-1AN: I love days off. Let me tell you trucking this time of year sucks. Ya'll heard of that ice storm that hit the Midwest…ya I was in that. Oh my god, I had to take a hammer to my glad hands (perverted sounding I know, but they're just the hook ups for the air hoses) to get the ice off. The trailer was a big 53 ft long ice cube. I've never seen anything like it before.

I love living in the south. I wore shorts yesterday.

8888888

Bonecrusher hadn't always been alone.

The name Devastator hadn't always been claimed by weak willed idiots too wretched to make their own creator given name feared.

That's what it was in the end. Fear, the fear a name could generate.

That was what drove Mechs like Brawl to claim the name Devastator.

Perhaps they thought if they took on the name they could claim some of the power behind it.

It boiled Bonecrushers circuits. So much in fact no one dared claimed that name in front of him. He'd already killed three mechs in the thousands of vorns since Devastator essentially died.

Any Bot that took that name knew it was a risk. Bonecrusher didn't care if he'd get thrown in the brig, or beaten for killing a fellow Decepticon. No one would claim that name while his spark still pulsed!

He doubted that Brawl had even known he was on the planet when he made the mistake of shouting over the com link 'devastator reporting'.

Devastator…

The memories were going dim. Not that they had been particular powerful to begin with.

He wasn't really conscious when he was combined with his fellow Constructicons.

It was strange feeling, something that couldn't really be explained to those that weren't combiners.

Kind of like floating, you were aware of what was going on. But you had no control. Devastator might be a mech created out of 5 different individuals, but he wasn't one of them. It was like all their sparks combined to create a totally new being, the 6th brother.

Bonecrusher sometimes likened the experience to being the voice in some nutcases head.

He couldn't control what their brother did, he could only whisper ideas and hoped the big guy followed along. Course considering there were 5 other voices along with his, all with vastly different attitudes and opinions, it was a wonder Devastator was able to concentrate long enough to finish a mission.

Nutcase aside, Devastator was the most powerful Decepticon out there. He was pure hatred and rage and VIOLENCE.

Nothing stood in his way.

Bonecrusher didn't really remember when his brothers had been lost. They had been combined into Devastator and causing all kind of destruction.

He remembered pain, separation, falling and a frame searing, metal crunching landing.

Somehow the Autobots had made a device that overrode their programming and forced them to disengage. As they fell apart they had been showered in artillery.

It had happened on Tigar Prax.

That much Bonecrusher remembered.

Tigar Prax, the battle there had been costly for both sides. It had been brutal and gory. Mech's that survived that horror still were affected by it a millennia later.

Bonecrusher had been lucky. By the will of the AllSpark the ground had collapsed under him, casting him into some sub tunnels, thus somewhat protected from the bombardment.

When he had come back online and crawled out of the hole.

Blackened husks.

That was all that was left.

For the first time in his long life he had been…lost. He hadn't known what to do.

The battle was over, his brothers, Devastator was dead.

He vividly remembered looking around at the scarred landscape, and wondering if he would be left behind. It wasn't unheard of for the Decepticons

to retreat and leave their wounded for the Autobots to deal with. His wounds weren't life threatening, but they were bad enough that he couldn't get out of here himself.

So he had stay there, motionless with the dead for primus knows how long before someone found him.

Silverbolt…Autobot, one of the Ariel bots, also a combiner.

He landed beside him, guns drawn although he didn't fire.

Bonecrusher barely gave him a glance. Just enough to see that the bot was slightly damaged and dirty.

The Ariel bots and Constructicons always had it in for each other. Superion was one of the few that could go head to head with Devastator.

"Get it over with Autobot."

Bonecrusher said softly not bothering to get to his feet. In his hands he held the broken and blackened head of who used to be Scavenger. Bonecrusher lowered his head, remembering how the self esteem challenged bot had given him pieces of junk metal trying his hardest for a kind word. Of course Bonecrusher had never given it. Actually no one but Scapper gave the bot any kind of attention.

Some brother he was. He had let them down…if he hadn't went offline maybe he could have pulled at least one of them to safety.

"I'm surprised you survived the shock of their deaths."

The jet said just as softly. It was a well known fact that Combiners were closer than even bond mates. It was a side effect of them coming together to create one.

Bonecrushers body shuddered.

"Who said I survived?"

He didn't even flinch as two other of the Ariel bots flew in and landed beside their leader. SkyDive and Fireflight.

The two remained silent as they looked at the carnage in front of them. It was a truly gruesome site. Fluids still stained the ground and bodies lay twisted and mangled. It was hard to imagine that the once powerful and unstoppable Devastator lay within these ruins.

"Sir…"

Skydive finally muttered softly.

"We need to finish up here and regroup with Prime and the others."

Silverbolt nodded and leveled his gun.

Before he could fire though a sound of shock and protest escaped the youngest Ariel bots vocalizer. Optics wide he slapped his hands over his mouth.

"You have something to say Fireflight."

Silverbolt said softly, gun still aimed at Bonecrushers head.

Fireflight looked back and forth from Silverbolt to Bonecrusher. Conflicting emotions flashed through his bright blue eyes.

"You can't…I mean, he's not fighting. Can't we just take him prisoner?"

"He's to far gone"

Silverbolt said with conviction. Fireflight was young, he probably didn't truly understand what was going on here. A gestalt team could lose one…or maybe two of their brothers and still be able to rise through the ashes. Other bots could be taken in as brothers, that was how Fireflight was added to the team. But with Bonecrusher…he was all that was left. He was to broken, the bond to mangled. There was nothing for him now.

"Like any of us would be if that was us sitting there."

"We could…just leave him."

Fireflight whimpered, still not liking the thought of gunning down an unresisting mech, even if he was a Decepticon.

"He's still dangerous."

Skydive said.

"Just because Devastators dead doesn't take away from Bonecrushers power."

"Killing him is best."  
Silverbolt said, pity deep in his voice.

"He's already dead. He just doesn't know it yet."

The sound of a gun going off caused both Skydive and Fireflight to jump.

Silverbolt cried in pain his shoulder smoking from a poorly aimed weapon..

"I WILL NOT BE PITIED!"

Bonecrusher screamed out in fury. There was an undeniable echo of insanity in his voice and in his flashing optics.

"DEVESTESTOR will rise again through me! I swear to the AllSpark!"

Bonecrusher fired every weapon he had hazardously. He didn't bother aiming, just fired in the general direction of the Autobots. He barely registered as they took to the air.

"I WILL NOT BE PITIED! I AM NOT WEAK!"

"Sir, orders?"

Skydive said once they were out of range of Bonecrushers weapons. The brutal and unfocused attack had taken them all by surprise.

Silverbolt held a hand over his damaged shoulder, his optics focused on the insanity raging below him. He knew he should kill Bonecrusher, destroy any and all hope that somehow Devastator would come back. It only made sense, in a war like this one didn't have the luxury of leaving things to chance. Yet…he hesitated.

He glanced at Fireflight, saw how wide his optics were. He looked frightened and perhaps rightfully so. This was the first time he saw first hand what could happen. For all they knew they were looking at their own future. That tortured mech below them could someday be them.

"Let him be. Enough lives have been destroyed here today."

888

That had been almost a millennia ago.

He had been lucky. Despite the insanity that had sparked to life in every circuit of his body he had been found.

Thundercracker, wingmate of Starscream himself had been delivering a message. Normal communications weren't trusted as the Autobots seemed to know what was going on before the Decepticons did. Was either a traitor or hacked communications.

Megatron despite his distrusting nature thought it was the latter of the two.

The flying mech had seen Bonecrusher wrecking havoc and reported in. Hell if Bonecrusher hadn't gone insane and just sat there he would have been missed.

To this day Bonecrusher didn't know why Megatron decided to come get him in person.

He figured the powerful mech was curious to see what happened when a gestalt team all but died.

That…or he knew he was the only mech capably of restraining Bonecrusher till his right mind came back.

Bonecrusher sighed as he surveyed his new surroundings.

He didn't know why his mind kept going back to that day today. He could normally repress those memories. They did nothing for him.

Made his spark ache, reaching out to brothers that were no longer…would never be there.

Bonecrusher glanced down, his red eye dulling slightly.

All his hopes and dreams shattered into a million pieces.

All there was left was for him to survive…then what?

The Allspark was gone. There was no reason to fight anymore. Hell he didn't even feel angry at the human male Sam. The boy had merely done the only thing he could do to survive. Bonecrusher had done that enough times to understand.

But that still left the question…what was he going to do now?

Shaking his head he tried to focus on the things around him. He was in some humans back yard. A vast difference from the scorched metal of Tigar Prax.

There were over a dozen people at this 'cook out' or whatever Mikaela had called it.

Most of them middle aged to elder men and woman. Mikaela was by far the youngest human here.

Bonecrusher paused.

He supposed given his current form he was also considered in the younger bracket.

He smiled.

That was mildly funny. To be considered young, when he was probably older than the human race itself.

There was a strange cooking device which was currently turned on too high to cook the food decently. The human male was going to burn everything.

A wooden table packed high with different foods and drinks. All of which Bonecrusher had yet to even approach. He wasn't sure he could eat in this form. Even if he could he wasn't sure he wanted to. Human food was…well it was sort of disgusting.

Thus far the other humans had kept their distance from him. He supposed he was intimidating to them.

He wondered again if his projector was malfunctioning. He was so much taller and broader than everyone else. Easily a head and shoulder above the tallest male.

He also seemed to have more muscle mass.

However no one seemed overly concerned so it mustn't be that big of an issue.

After all Cybertronians came in all shapes and sizes too.

Without even realizing it, Bonecrusher sought out the human female whom was helping him.

Mikaela was mingling well.

She was with that strange older female, Jenkins or something like that. The elder human had changed out of the dress she'd been wearing earlier today and was currently in a white almost suit like dress with the most ridiculous looking hat Bonecrusher had ever seen. Still the human looked comfortable in the getup.

He felt slightly out of place. He didn't really want to talk to the other humans. But at the same time he didn't want to go back to the garage. He was so sick and tired of doing nothing.

Mikaela had introduced him. Mentioning he was here to help her with the shop and NOTHING else. Mrs. Jenkins had snickered loudly and Bonecrusher couldn't help being amused at how red Mikaela got.

He didn't care what the others thought. If they thought he was her mate then that was their business.

He watched his savior. Such a tiny little human. She was short, thin and completely feminine by her species standards. How she had managed to help the soldiers and Bumblebee take out Brawl he could only speculate. Hell he wasn't really sure how she had saved his life.

_She's a genius._

He decided suddenly.

_To be able to learn so quickly and easily. She went from fixing human vehicles to me. _

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Humans were supposed to be an inferior species. At least that's what his Decepticon programming said.

However the truth was right in front of him.

She was a genius, a gutsy one to boot.

Bonecrusher hadn't meant to harm her. After all what he said about the double feed back was true. He might be able to walk and move around in this form, but if he touched himself, or caused himself pain, then his processors would probably overload, and not in the fun way.

He had simply meant to scare her, drive home the point that she had better the slag not tell the Autobots anything about him. She had been so fragile. Granted he was still learning this body, but he wasn't even using a quarter of its strength.

She had turned a strange color, terror in her eyes…and that sound.

Bonecrusher shuddered, then paused surprised at the reaction.

He'd tortured, maimed and killed hundreds if not thousands of Autobots. Hell he'd even killed his fair share of humans.

He didn't even notice cries of pain, mercy or screams anymore.

But there was something…disturbing about that small sound she had made. It was soft, just a squeak, but it had made his human form freeze, a strange jolt of something racing through his veins making him feel jittery.

After he had dropped her, he wasn't sure what to expect.

He had seen the fear in her eyes.

But he had the strange impression she didn't fear him. Rather she feared death itself.

She hadn't used the incident to not go to this 'cook out'. But rather had taken a moment to compose herself and then move on.

Bonecrusher admired strength. He always had, it was programmed into him that those whom are strong survive.

Survival of the fittest.

Still even a fundamentalist like him could admit strength came in many different forms.

This human female was strong.

In a strange way, it made her fixing him feel ok. The gut wrenching feelings of helplessness and embarrassment melted away.

He never felt embarrassed or uneasy when the medics back home worked on him. It was necessary. It was what they did. He accepted that with no qualms from his personal beliefs getting in the way.

This human, Mikaela was a medic too and he would treat her as such.

Bonecrusher felt the tension in his shoulders relax. He hadn't realized how much having a human repair him had bothered him.

"Crush?"  
Mikaela asked as she walked over to him.

"Why did you save me?"

Mikaela did that eye roll thing again and turned her back to him.  
"I've told you before."

"I didn't believe you before."

He said taking a half step forward. Mikaela blushed noticing the violation of personal space but also knowing better than to step away. She couldn't show any fear or hesitation. Even if this was making her nervous as hell.

"Why should I bother then."

Annoyed that she was attempting to avoid the topic he found himself staring at her scarf.

It was pink, slightly glittery and looked good against her skin. Her dark hair, just dead cells, looked surprisingly good on her the way it was wrapped up in a loose bun exposing the back of her neck. Without thinking he reached up and brushed the back of her neck.

She stiffened.

He paused a moment, then continued to softly brush his fingers against her skin. He hadn't really touched her before. Or rather he hadn't paid much attention to the sensations his new body sent to him. Her skin was soft and warm, vastly different than what he was used to. She had little tiny golden hairs on the back of her neck that were standing up at his touch, goose bumps forming before his eyes.

Taking another half step he got closer to her so he could speak without others hearing.

"I'll believe you this time"

That caused a strange look to set in her face. He was still having trouble reading human expressions. They had so many facial muscles, a language all in his own written on their faces. Cybertronians didn't nearly have as communicative ways, it was more though tone of voice and body language.  
Mikaela took a deep breath. Bonecrusher frowned as her body gave off some sort of strange pheromone smell. He breathed in deeply absorbing it, trying to recognize it.

It was a nice smell, earthy, yet clean with a hit of some kind of floral plant.

"Why? Why believe me now?"

She finally said, just as softly.

"I don't have to explain my reasoning's."  
Bonecrusher muttered repeating what he told her a few days ago. It was true, but it was mostly because he didn't want to explain his changing views of the girl. He didn't want her to know he now considered her a full if untrained medic. He leaned his head down until he was speaking straight into her ear. If possible Mikaela stiffened more. He didn't think it was fear, despite some of the symptoms being the same. However he couldn't be sure, he couldn't scan her like he could in the garage. He only have his human senses out here (even if they were much better than a normal humans)

"My my my…are you HELPING Mikaela again Crush."

Bonecrusher snapped his head up as Mrs. Jenkins floated over to them. She didn't seem to walk, her dress hardly moved it seemed. How a human did that Bonecrusher wasn't really sure. Then again this was a rather strange human.

Mikaela blushed horrible and much to Bonecrushers dismay the strange pheromone smell stopped. Why did it stop? He liked that smell, it was nice soothing…yet at the same time made him slightly antsy.

"Mrs. Jenkins…we're not…its not like that."  
Jenkins winked at Bonecrusher.

"Of course not dear. Everyone knows that only friends whisper sweet nothings into a young woman's ear."

Bonecrusher raised an eyebrow. Sweet nothings? What the slagging pit was a sweet nothing?

Mrs. Jenkins pressed a drink into Mikaela's hand.

"You need to relax sweetheart. This is a party…"

The elder woman looked around, most of the people here were friends of her husband. She gave them a barely concealed look of contempt.

"The company could be better though. Drink up young lady."

Mikaela made a face at the drink.

"You do know I'm underage right?"

Seeing clear hesitation on Mikaela's part he let impulse guide him as he took the drink from her. Was this the Sweet nothings the woman referred to? He only gave it a moments thought before throwing his head back and downing it, like he had seen the men at the construction zone do. Might as well find out now if he could take in food and drink. He was pretty sure he could. After all the body worked like a humans.

"CRUSH!"

Mikaela said alarmed.

Bonecrusher was rather surprised. The drink was…well he never tasted anything like it. Course his diet pretty much only consisted of energon, and more recently diesel, this was absolutely nothing like either of those fuels.

It was weird and he almost gagged.

He forced himself to swallow, the drink burned all the way down.

Mrs. Jenkins laughed.

"Slow down Handsome. My drinks got kick."

Bonecrusher coughed.

"Couldn't tell."

A strange warmth penetrated his middle, like really good high grade. It was surprisingly pleasant. Ok the taste was horrible but he liked the after effects. He gave Jenkins a grin as she handed him another.

"I uh Mrs. Jenkins please, don't get the mountain drunk."

Jenkins smiled mischievously.

"So your from Tranquility too?"  
Bonecrusher shook his head.

"Only been there a few years."

He paused to take a deep drink then elaborated. He discovered it wasn't nearly as bad in smaller sips, the taste was still strange although he suspected from a human perspective it wasn't bad.

"I worked in construction."

Which was true. He worked as a normal vehicle, having nasty dirty humans climb in and out of him everyday. It was not pleasant. Especially the diesel gas the humans had kept giving him to drink. Talk about nasty stuff, fuel was fuel in the end, but some processed easier than others. Primus he didn't want to think about the exhaust created from digestion problems.

"So how did you two lovebirds meet?"

"Mrs. Jenkins!"

Jenkins rolled her eyes.

"Fine fine, so how did you two friends meet?"  
Bonecrusher frowned, glancing at Mikaela. He didn't know how to answer than question.

"My Uncle."  
She said without pause. Mikaela it seemed could lie effortlessly.

"He owns a junkyard. I was looking for parts. Crush was working for him."

"And you just up and decided to move to Indiana. Just to…help out."

Jenkins smiled a small coy smile before sipping her own fruity way weaker drink. She might make um mean but that didn't mean she liked them that way herself.

Bonecrusher finished the second drink. Stuff was strong he could already feel it working on him. Which was kind of strange. Why would a drink this fake form took in effect his processor? Seemed there was a lot about his brothers invention he didn't know about.

"I got hurt. Decided to start over."

Bonecrusher glanced at Mikaela meeting her eyes steadily.

Mikaela blinked at him. Her face looking slightly shocked. Bonecrusher had never told her what he planned to do after he was healed. Never mentioned he might be willing to do something other than kill and be evil. That sounded a lot like he was considering other things.

"Oh my…"

Jenkins looked slightly put out but curiosity over took any tact she felt might be needed for the next question.

"You…um your eye right? I mean…poor dear you look healthy enough other than that."

Bonecrusher nodded.

Again Jenkins seemed slightly flustered. She was a southern woman by birth. Prime and proper she knew some questions just weren't polite to ask…however on the other hand she was a southern woman by birth and the need to gossip ran deep in her blood.

It was a war, she didn't want to upset the large man. Especially if him and Mikaela were an item. She loved the dirty little girl almost like a daughter despite the fact they hadn't known each other long.

Just everything about Mikaela, Jenkins liked. She was independent, smart, able, and honest. She was a hard working girl making a living.

She wanted Mikaela to be happy.

"If you don't mind…was it work related? How you lost the eye?"

Gossiping won the battle. She just couldn't resist asking.

"No."

Bonecrusher said wondering how much he could say. It was a delicate balance, he enjoyed making Mikaela's face scrunch in that funny way, but he also needed to avoid revealing to much.

"In a fight."

"Oh dear."

Bonecrusher shrugged. He had gotten his ass handed to him. There was no other way to look at it. Optimus hadn't been hurt beyond a dent or two.

"It was weird, not much pain just…suddenly I was looking up at Op…the guy."  
Bonecrusher felt maybe he should avoid saying Optimus's name.

"and at my feet at the same time."

Jenkins looked a little pale at that.

"Fascinating."

"Crush."

Mikaela said her tone thick. Her face clearly told him he was taking it to far. He grinned, feeling slightly tipsy. It was fun to gross out humans. Hell he wasn't even talking about an organic eye and she was turning funny colors.

"Maybe we should get back."

Mikaela said watching in horror as Bonecrusher downed his third drink.

Mrs. Jenkins looked like she was going to complain but stopped at the look Mikaela sent her.

"Thank you for the invite its been fun. Really. We'll have to do this again."

_Without the alien robot turned human coming with me._

Mikaela thought as she got behind Bonecrusher and started to push him toward her truck. Considering how much stronger he was than her, the fact that he was moving told her he wanted to leave as well.

"Holy lord."  
Mikaela said as she laid her head on the steering wheel. Beside her Bonecrusher quietly sat in the passengers seat.

She could feel his eye on her.

"You really are trying to get us in trouble aren't you."

She said not moving her head off the steering wheel.

Bonecrusher didn't answer right away.

"Alcohol is like high grade. You have any idea how long its been since I've gotten any good high grade."

"Er?"

Mikaeala turned her head to glance as Bonecrusher. He was smiling at her his cheeks slightly flushed.

"Oh god you're drunk aren't you."

"Hmmm."

Bonecrusher said trying to understand that term.

"I'm not operating at top efficiency if that's what you mean."

Mikaela moaned softly into her steering wheel.

"How can you be drunk? I didn't even know you could drink."

Bonecrusher shrugged.

"I'm not sure. I'd ask my brother, but he's dead."

Alcohol did strange things. He barely even felt sadness saying that. Hell why did he say that? She didn't need to know anything about him. He eyed the drink in his hand suspiciously.

"Oh…sorry."

Mikaela said eyes widening as she registered what he said.

"I will not be pitied."

He snarled before losing whatever anger he had and chuckling.

"Lost them all at once, goodbye, so long, shouldn't have survived myself. Went insane for awhile."

Mikaela had started the truck but Bonecrusher didn't notice.

"Devastator died with them, mechs started to steal the name. Slaggers! To weak to make their own names feared, had to steal from the dead."

Mikaela didn't say anything. She wasn't sure how to handle a chatty Bonecrusher. Sure he talked a lot when she worked on him, just to keep distracted from the pain. But he actually didn't say a lot about himself.

"I didn't know Mechs could have brothers."

She finally said softly.

"Mmm."

He nodded.

"Not like you meat bags. We don't have genetic material to trade. They were…"

Bonecrusher leaned back in the seat, letting his head rest against the window.

"They were everything."

He looked out the window.

"I just didn't realize it until they were gone."

888

Sam had been fascinated by the new arrivals. Unlike last time when he'd witness a landing he wasn't scared out of his pants. He could actually enjoy the light show.

Still he hadn't been prepared for the girl or as Bumblebee called her a femme.

She had boobs.

Metal ones ya, but they were still there. It was throwing him for a loop. Why did a robot have boobs? What was the point?

He really tried not to stare, but it was hard.

"Sam. My optics are up here."  
Arcee chuckled softly, her voice soft and soothing.

Sam blushed 5 different shades of red.

"Sorry!"

He squeaked out.

"I just never seen a girl Autobot before…didn't know there WERE girl autobots."

Everyone chuckled at that, even Ron, which Sam noticed. Turning to his father he gave him an incredulous look.

"You knew!?"

He accursed. Ron nodded.

"Optimus told me. Said it was a design thing. She ain't really a girl. Right?"

Ron looked up at Arcee just to make sure he was understanding it right.

Arcee nodded.

"Right. Inside I'm no different than dear old Bee here."

Sam had a snippy remark for his father. Something slightly sarcastic but funny, however he never got the chance to say it.

All hell broke loose as something small (compared to the autobots) but heavy tackled him.

"ACK! WHAT the HELL GET IT OFF!"

Sam cried in panic as what felt like killer kitty claws pierced his skin.

"You PIT SPAWN get off him you red eyed freak!"

That would be Springer. Sam thought and despite his panic he was rather surprised. The guy sounded so different. He had been so nice before now he sounded angry way angry.

Sam saw Springer reach forward and the weight was yanked off him.

"Springer don't!"

An unknown bot cried out. Sam tried to sit up just as the most…horrible gut wrench sound pierced the air.

He curled up covering his ears. That noise!

High pitched and crying, it sent his instincts into gear. Thing was he didn't know why? He'd never heard that sound before yet he was reacting. Adrenaline flooded his system, his muscles tensed and suddenly LIGHTS exploded behind his eyes.

He was falling.

He could see things.

_MINE, ALLSPARK!_

Sam cried out as he saw Megatron, but not just him, Sam could see himself as well. Holding up the AllSpark and watching it get absorbed into the tyrants chest.

Only….in his minds eye he could see. The energy hadn't gone into Megatron. Sure it had killed him but rather than go in him it had went through him.

Sam felt his body stop falling, rather floated over the scene. He blinked although even with his eyes closed he could still see.

The All Sparks energy like snow slowly started to cover the ground. Sam looked down at his hands. He was covered in it as well. Everyone was, the entre planet was.

_What?_

There was a Mech standing in shadows. Sam couldn't make out what he looked like. He was talking…shouting trying to tell Sam something but Sam couldn't hear. He tried to but the words were confusing he couldn't make it out.

"I can't hear you? WHAT?"

Somehow he knew what this mech had to say was important. Something important…something that could change everything!

Something whispered in his ear. He tried to listen. He needed to hear. It was something powerful, something frightening yet wonderful at the same time. It something everyone needed to know!

The mech reached out, he was holding something? But what?

Sam squinted trying to make out the object that seemed tiny in the robots hand.

He started to float down toward the mech…the image got clearer.

Something exploded. He could feel the air around him vibrate but the sound was muted. Far away. Sam frowned his attention torn between the mech and something else. Sounded familiar…was someone calling him? What was going on?

"SAM!"

Bumblebee's voice snapped Sam out of whatever happened. He blinked still shaking.

Looking around he noticed that Springer was on the ground smoking.

Instantly he glanced at Ironhide. Who was holding something tiny his guns still spinning.

Sam jumped as he heard that noise again. It was high pitched and wailing, interrupted by clicks and whirls of panic. Sounded a lot like Bee had when he'd been tortured only worse.

"Stop…stop…stop. That sound make it stop!"

Sam whimpered covering his ears.

Bee made a sound of panic, and Sam vaguely noticed that the sound didn't seem to be bothering his parents.

"IRONHIDE!"

Optimus roared. Ironhide didn't even flinch, instead he seemed to turn his body to protect whatever he was carrying. And to Sam's shock even pointed his guns at Optimus

although he didn't fire.

It was then a white and green bot Sam hadn't seen before walked up to Ironhide. The bot was very careful as he approached making soft sounds, words that Sam didn't understand, but the screaming slowly died down until it was making soft clicks back. It was then something in Ironhide seemed to shut down, his optics dimmed and he shook his head. Frowning he looked around, then focused on the white and green bot. He handed whatever he was holding to said bot, whom was still making those soft noises.

"Sam are you alright?"  
Sam blinked at his father. He was still shaking badly.

Ratchet lowered himself onto his knee's to scan the human. Wheeljack had the sparkling, calming him better than Ratchet could at the moment. It would take awhile to truly gain their trust even if he was their creator.

"Just scratches Sam. You don't need stitches. I have some cream I want you to put on them to ward off infection."

Ratchet frowned as the boy continued to shake. Did the sparkling really scare him that much? That didn't seem like Sam.

"Are you alright Sam?"

"Screaming…that sound…horrible!"

Ratchet blinked…and Sam's words caused every bot to pause.

Ratchet scanned more. Noticing the heightened blood pressure the beating heart. Ratchet had assumed it was due to the…well it wasn't an attack. The Sparkling while small was stronger already than a human. If he wanted to hurt Sam he would have.

Grimlock had probably been curious. After all he'd never seen an organic before.

It had taken both Ratchet and Wheeljack by surprise when Grimlock had launched himself at the boy clicking excitedly. Ratchet frowned harshly and glanced at his two sparklings. They were both still looking at Sam eyes bright. The intensity of their gaze didn't register as normal behavior to Ratchet. What was attracting their attention so strongly?

It was legend, well rumor really that sparklings could see things other couldn't. A special sensor that they lost their first upgrade…could this…sensor be seeing something he wasn't?  
"Ratchet."

Optimus did a good imitation of a human clearing their throat.

Reluctantly Ratchet stood up to go check on Springer.

"If he does anything like that again, He's on his own Optimus."

Ratchet said fury in his voice.

"It was uncalled for. He could have seriously hurt the sparkling."

Out of the corner of his optic he saw Optimus lift his hands to try and calm the fuming medic.

"I'm sure he was only worried for Sam."

"its more than that Optimus and you know it. You heard what he said!"

Ratchet was assessing the damage. Ironhides missiles had done their jobs. It was a mess although nothing he couldn't fix. Springer would live.

"Thank you Ironhide."

Ratchet heard Wheeljack softly mutter. He nodded his approval. Back before the war, one of Ironhides main responsibly had been to protect sparklings. Every transformer was programmed to react to a distress call, but Ironhides programming made him react violently if a sparkling was in danger. He would kill, maim and destroy whatever needed to be done. In fact that was the reason Bumblebee was alive and kicking.

The weapons specialist had heard the call and came charging into a Decepticon

camp guns ablazing. When that part of his programming kicked in, Ironhide didn't feel pain. He could take a lot of damage before he'd even slow done.

The decepticons didn't even know what hit them.

He glanced at Sam again, still working on Springer.

All the humans had heard the call but why was Sam reacting to it?

"Are you alright Sammy?"

His mother asked as she helped her son stand up. He was awfully white.

"You guys…that sound didn't bother you at all?"

Sam asked surprised. He parents looked at each other then back to Sam.

"Well it wasn't a pleasant sound if that's what you mean?"

"No."

Sam said softly.

"It was like…I had to move. I had to do something but I couldn't…I saw light and and…I kept seeing and hearing weird things."

Bumblebee frowned. He scanned the boy himself and while his scanners were no where near as good as Ratchets he couldn't find anything wrong with him. Just some superficial scratches.

"Maybe you should go home Sam, recharge…humans always feel better after recharging. Right?"  
Bumblebee said worriedly.

"That's sleeping, and ya…maybe…"

Sam looked up at Wheeljack or rather at the two small forms in his arms.

"Sparklings."

Sam said in a hushed tone. Bee frowned he wasn't sure when Sam had even heard of that term, much less be able to identify one.

"Yes they are. Although I'm not sure how…they can't be more than a few human months old."

"Can I…uh see…I mean meet them?"

He asked loud enough to gain Wheeljacks attention. The inventors ear panel lit up in pleasure. He had thought for sure the human boy would be terrified of the little ones. He didn't know who this human was. Wheeljack had thought that the normal don't be seen by the natives protocol was still in effect. It seemed however that the boy knew everyone. Bumblebee he noticed in particular seemed to be close to the human.

Bending down he gently set his Sparklings on the ground.

"Be gentle."

He reminded Grimlock whom looked up at him. He was still a bit scared by what had happened but being Grimlock was already recovering fast.

The sparklings were just a little shorter than Sam was, and much thinner. They looked like the others before they got alt modes. Protoforms or whatever Optimus had called it.

Sam held out his hand not sure why but feeling something toward these two.

Grimlock didn't even pause and was suddenly on Sam again, knocking him over. Wheeljack was about to reprimand the sparkling when Sam held up his hand.

"Its alright, He's not hurting me."

The other one was much gentler, came up quietly looking fascinated.

It poked at Sam's side which earned it a giggle.

"Ah don't I'm ticklish!"

Sam managed to sit up, not sure what to do he touched the gentle sparkling on the side of his head. The sparklings eyes dimmed and tilted its head into Sam's hand.

It started to make a sound, which the other one imitated immediately.

"are they purring?"  
Sam asked in surprise.

It sounded like a purr only more mechanical, like a mix of a big cat and car engine.

Sam blinked as every transformer almost as one turned to look at them and froze.

"what?"

Bumblebee was the first to speak.

"Sparklings normally only do that with their siblings or creators."

Wheeljack added in awe.

"it's a sign of ultimate trust."

"huh?"

Sam said feeling the jittery edge the distress call had made ebb away thanks to the soothing purr.

"S'nice."

Sam tilted his head wishing he could make the sound back at them. It was such a nice comforting sound.

The Sparklings were warm, much warmer than Bee or the other Autobots. He figured it might be because they didn't have layers of armor yet, or it might be they were still warm from hitting Atmo.

Little baby transformers.

"Ahaha, stop it."

Swoop was poking his sides again. Sam tried to twist away laughing loudly.

The sparkling seemed to like the noises he was making so didn't stop. It laughed as well, a high pitched musical sound. It didn't sound like a normal human laugh but the meaning of the sound was obvious.

"Bee! Help me Hahaha!"

Bumblebee chuckled as Sam wiggled helplessly. He couldn't do much with Grimlock still sitting on him.

Bee waited several moments before kneeling down.

"I think that's enough for now sparklings."

Both Sparklings turned to him and Bee felt curious scans going over his body. It was a sparklings way of saying, who are you?

"I'm Bumblebee."

He said in Cybertronian. He waited quietly as they scanned him.

Finally Wheeljack bent over and picked them both up.

"I'm looking around."  
Wheeljack said, his eyes resting on the three humans present.

"And I see a story. Anyone wanna update us?"


	6. Cafe of doom

-1AN: I must be weird. I read all these stories with Simmons in them and in almost every one Simmons is either the bad guy or a jerk. I just don't see him that way. Ya he was an ass to Sam and Mikaela in the movie but I still think over all he's a good guy trying to do the right thing and keep the world safe.

Well anyway I'm cold. I hate being cold. I moved to the south for a reason.

However it seems my choice of career makes me go to cold places, Kansas city is FREEZING.

Sucks, ya I could keep my truck running all night, however I like the bonus's I get monthly if I don't idle my truck for to long. Still…I woke up this morning and my bottle water was an ice cube. I ain't kidding, the water had froze.

Aaannnd that's enough of my bitching. Hope ya'll enjoy this update. Might take awhile for another, been having a bit of writers block. I know what I want to do. But I just can't seem to get things flowing well.

Hmph we'll see what happens,

Enjoy

9999

"What is going on with you two?"  
Wheeljack asked his sparklings as they sat waiting for Ratchet to finish scanning the boy again. Ratchet didn't like it one bit how the boy reacted to the Sparklings distress call and was giving him the most indebt and complete scan of the poor boys life.

Ratchet was looking at every cell, every piece of the boy to make sure he was alright.

Wheeljack sighed, knowing his Sparklings were still to young to talk. They didn't seem worried. Hell they still went into purr mode every time they got near the human.

Yet another strange fact making both creators nervous.

Ratchet didn't say but Wheeljack suspected he was worried the Allspark had done something. Humans were very susceptible to radiation and the boy had been holding the Allspark when it was destroyed.

Gears grinded softly inside his body. A small sound to hint at what he was feeling inside. He just couldn't get over the thought that his sparklings were most likely the last of their kind. He thanked primus with everything in his being for giving him two beautiful creations as well as the foresight to create two at once. At least this way they would have each other, if no other playmates their own age.

"Even harder to believe, that that little organic not even an adult yet destroyed Megatron. Fitting I say."

Wheeljack muttered aloud.

It was poetic justice if you asked him.

They were at the new base, which wasn't much barely more than shelter from the elements. Currently there were several buildings packed closely together out in the middle of nowhere. The location was very secured however. He'd seen the soldiers at the entrance. Well trained with good eyes for trouble. No one would get in without them noticing.

Wheeljack was currently reading through a data pad in the main storage room, looking at the resources the US government had made available to them.

It was impressive. Much more than Wheeljack had expect of an alien government.

_Would we have been as hospitable if the situation was reversed?_

He wondered to himself. His face plates shifted into what humans called a smile. It was one of the many things they were learning to do to try and blend in better. It wasn't easy, Cybertronian faces just weren't designed to be as flexible as a humans.

Wheeljack would do a lot of good with these materials. He couldn't wait to get to work. Optimus had already asked him to help design a bigger badder base, as well as a planet defense grid. It would take awhile but it would be worth it to protect this small yet beautiful planet.

He paused a moment and glanced around making sure both Sparklings were still within optic sight.

Currently Grimlock was exploring, well stalking something actually if his slow and focused body movements were any indication, while Swoop played with a tool Ratchet had give him. The smaller sparkling had been fascinated with what Ratchet was doing to Springer.

_Like sparkling like creator._

Wheeljack thought. It wouldn't surprise him a bit if Swoop turned out to be a medic as well.

Grimlock was the enigma.

The Sparkling was nothing like him or Ratchet. In fact Wheeljack sometimes wondered if someone had taken the body he'd built and replaced it for another.

It looked the same, and everything he'd put into it was the same, but the sparkling was so different.

He was insanely strong already. He also didn't seem to have an ouch of fear. True he'd sent a distress call today but that was expected. Any sparkling would have done the same. It was programmed into them to yell when grabbed by a hostile being.

And lets not forget the red optics.

Wheeljack sighed as he once again scanned the area to make sure Grimlock wasn't getting into trouble. It was second nature by now.

How had that happened? Autobots had blue optics, Decepticons had red, that was the way things were for as long as anyone could remember.

The only exceptions were those undercover, traitors, or casseticons.

Grimlock was none of those.

Springer wasn't the only bot to be distrustful of the tiny Sparkling. He'd come across over half a dozen bots in the three months Grimlock had been online and every one of them had thought he'd found and adopted some Decepticon brat. And lets not forget the general paranoia of sparklings that were somehow given life without the Allspark being near.

That alone had a few wanting to offline them.

Wheeljack was a decent fighter. After all he had to understand fighting to create the best weapons. But it had been close a few times.

He didn't like to think about it. Especially since he had considered a few of those bots friends before. But if it hadn't for Arcee whom had taken a liking to the sparklings he wasn't sure if he would have been able to protect them by himself.

It wasn't fair. Why did it have to be this way? He had spent so much time working on them. Creating their processors, building their bodies and readying it for a spark when the time came. Building Sparklings wasn't something one normally did do by themselves. Usually a bondmate or other family helped.

He'd done it by himself and he hadn't just built one, but two of the tiny bodies. Another thing usually not done unless one was creating twins.

He had taken the time to create a completely different style and processor for the younger Swoop.

Maybe he had done something wrong with Grimlock.

_No._

He thought, other than the red optics Grimlock was perfectly normal. A fact driven home when Ratchet scanned them and nodded.

Absolutely no one had better scanners than Ratchet.

Grimlock pounced on whatever he had been stalking. There was a high pitched squeal.

Wheeljack frowned and did a quick internet search.

Rat, a pest. Definitely not sentient also a nasty creature that tended to carry a lot of diseases deadly to humans.

He didn't bother Grimlock as he played with the thing. It would probably help teach him to be gentle with organics. The tiny organic creature couldn't hurt Grimlock in the slightest.

"Sam!"

Wheeljack nearly fell off his chair. His fuel pump did a spectacular lurch in his chest as he nearly had the equivalent of a heart attack.

"Who?"

He looked around…then with painful slowness looked down at Swoop.

"SAM!"

The Sparkling said again still holding onto the tool.

"You're first word."

Wheeljack said in awe and also a bit of jealously that it hadn't been creator like most Sparklings. It was strange though, they had been exposed to only Cybertronian up until a few hours ago. Yet here they were saying an English name. Granted it wasn't a very difficult name, but still Cybertronian was so very very different than English.  
"SAM!"

Said a completely different and surprisingly loud voice.

"Not you to."

Wheeljack laughed.

"Come on say Creator."

They both just looked at him. Grimlock titling his head, a still struggling rat in his claws.

The rat suddenly squeaked madly before a decidedly disgusting crushing sound was heard. Grimlock seemed surprised as the rat went limp in his hands.

Wheeljack flinched. Maybe he should have taken the rat away from him. That had sounded disgusting.

Grimlock turned the rat over and gave it a gentle shake.

Blood oozed from a few cuts his claws had created.

"Oh no."

Wheeljack muttered getting up. He could see the signs already. Optics turning off, mouth opening wide….

Opening his comlink he quickly got in touch with Ironhide.

_Hide, Grimlocks about the go off. Its nothing, he's just upset._

Grimlock started to scream.

(elsewhere in the base)

"Ah slag."

Ironhide muttered as every one of his systems came online with painful clarity. It had been so long since he had to deal with this. The fragging programming that nearly took him over every time a young one screamed.

"Ratchet!"

He called out in pain.

The Medic was quick to act, turning away from the human boy to focus on his other patient.

"Maybe I should have done this first."  
He said as he hurriedly pried Ironhides chest open.

"Offline your guns."  
He suddenly snapped as the familiar whirl started for once totally against Ironhides will.

The black mech grunted in pain as he suddenly reached up and literally ripped one cannon, then the other off his arms. Sparks and a bits of fluid oozed from the new wounds.

"Jesus Christ!"

Ratchet heard Sam say at Ironhides self mutilation. Still the minor damage was better than someone getting shot again.

"I can't believe they let you run around Sparklings with such a wound up system. How did you avoid killing the creators?"

Ironhide tried to shrug but it came out more of a cringe and resisted the insane urge to go running to the screaming sparkling and blast everything in site. Honestly he didn't know how he'd avoided killing anyone yet. Not that he didn't LOVE blowing shit up, but shooting a kids creator wasn't the way to calm them down.

"Didn't used to be this bad. I've gotten rusty."

Ratchet almost said a few choice words but cut himself off. It was kind of his fault that Ironhide was sitting in his temporary med room. After all if they were his sparklings.

"How's that?"

Ratchet asked after fiddling with some more parts. Ironhide noticeable relaxed.

"Much better."  
Ratchet nodded and closed the panel. It had been centuries since Ironhide had needed that program and last time he used it it had been on high alert.

"Little bugger can scream."

Ratchet muttered after a moment of listening. He could clearly hear the Sparkling.

"Just means he's healthy."

Ironhide said with a smile. He then flinched as Ratchet started work on the self inflicted wounds.

"Primus, I thought I'd seen the last of them."

He paused a moment.

"How do you think it happened?"  
Ratchet wiped the tool he'd been using clean.

"Possible a backlash from the AllSpark when it was destroyed. Its to much of a condescendence that both events happened a little over three human months ago."

"You think any others came online?"  
Ironhide asked hopefully. Ratchet wasn't Prowl. Prowl he was sure could give the exact percentage on the chances of more Sparklings being born.

"How many bots just have protoforms just laying around ready to go?"  
Ironhide slumped.

"Ya, well we got these two."

He smiled again and gave Ratchet a playful shove.

"Surprised to be a creator?"

"PRIMUS yes!"

Ratchet started to rearrange his tools. He was sorely lacking in basic equipment. Something he hoped to rectify very quickly.

"We've never even talked about it before. We weren't ready at first and then the Allspark was cast out so the conversation seemed redundant."

Ironhide nodded, then stiffened as he noticed something over Ratchets shoulder. Ratchet stiffened as well and glanced back. What he saw was Sam laying on the table, once again covering his ears as if in pain.

"Ugh."

Was the only sound he was able to make.

"Sam!"

Ratchet was instantly in front of the human scanners going crazy.

Yet as frustrating as it was he could detect nothing wrong with the human. Not even the internet and its millions of medical articles gave him a clue why the human seemed effected by the noise.

"Something…I'm supposed to do."  
Sam whimpered softly.

Ratchet frowned and spoke through their bond to Wheeljack.

"_Can you get that Sparkling quiet! Its affecting Sam somehow again!"_

"_You think I'm not trying? Grimlock accidentally killed a rat. He's freaking out!"_

"_A rat? Why in the blazing pit were you letting him play with something like that!"_

Through the bond Ratchet could feel Wheeljacks embarrassment.

"_I thought it might help him learn to be gentle with organics…"_

Wheeljack paused.

"_Apparently he still has a lot to learn on the subject."_

Ratchet made a mental note to keep a very close eye when the Sparklings were around the humans. It would be horrible if someone got killed because of an over excited child.

Then blessedly the noise stopped.

Ironhide cursed loudly half in anger of Sam's condition, half in prayer to Primus that it finally had stopped.

Sam, Ratchet noticed relaxed almost at once and just like the first time he seemed to be in an almost trance.

"Sam?"

Ratchet said softly leaning down so he was almost face level with the human.

Sam was muttering furiously to himself, so low that Ratchet couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Sam…wake up. SAM!"  
The boy suddenly blinked, slowly he sat up looking around confused.

"Are you feeling alright?"

He asked hesitantly. The boys readings were fine, if a little elevated. Sam nodded slowly still looking a little dazed.

"Weird dreams."

"You had dreams? Hallucinations?"

Ratchet asked tone now sharp. He focused on Sam's brain. There could be a number of things wrong that somehow the particular tone of Grimlocks cries triggered. It was unlikely but not impossible.

"Ya."

Sam shook his head.

"I uh…there was something…"

He looked a bit sheepish.

"That kid can wail can't he."

"Ya he can."  
Ironhide thoroughly agreed. Ratchet had recalibrated the worst of the reaction but it was still annoying to the large mech.

"Do you remember what you were seeing?"

Ratchet prompted, not that it mattered in the least what Sam saw. Ratchet was more intent on his memory during the strange episode. The boy was not dreaming, he could clearly read his vitals and brainwaves and Sam hadn't been in recharge. So that left some sort of hallucination.

"I'm not sure…I think I saw."

Sam paused frowning deeply.

"You ever heard of flashbacks? You know like soldiers from Vietnam get and shit."

Ratchet did a quick search again, then nodded.

"There are several hundred studies done on it."

That could be an answer. The battle was definitely something that could have traumatized the young human, but it still didn't explain why Sam had these flashbacks when a sparkling screamed.

"You saw the battle?"  
He asked softly.

"Ya, but like from a different angle, I was watching it from above. I keep seeing this mech, he's trying to tell me something but I can't hear her. Weird huh?"  
"Sam."

Ratchet finally said frustrated.

"I can't find a single thing wrong with you. Every scan comes back as a completely normal grown up male."

Sam tilted his head.

"Well that's good news…isn't it?"  
Sam did not like the look on Ratchets face.

"Yes and no. Yes as in nothing seems to be wrong, No since there is obviously something wrong."

Sam flinched.

"I feel fine, I just…"

Sam trailed off getting that far away look in his eyes again. Ratchet squashed the urge to snap the boy out of it and instead scanned him more carefully during the attack.

Eyes unfocused, pupils dilated, breathing slowed down…

"Sam."

Ironhide snapped. Ratchet glared at the large mech but didn't chide him. It was probably best not to let the trance draw out to long.

"What?"

Sam said startled out of the daze.

Ratchets optics narrowed.

"As chief medical officer I hereby am confiding you to the base."

"WHAT!"

Sam yelled out shocked.

"You can't do that! I have to go visit Mikaela and then go to boot!"  
Ratchet slammed his hand down onto the table. Sam yelped as the violent action actually caused him to bounce on the hard surface.

"I can and have! You are not going anywhere till I figure this out."

Sam blinked at the large very angry bot before turning to Ironhide for help.

Ironhide held up both hands in surrender.

"We got a saying Sam. Don't mess with the Hatchet. We got that saying and he got that nickname honest."

"AHHHH I can't believe this!"

8888

Simmons entered the small yet crowded Café.

He paused a moment, adjusted his tie and brushed back his hair, making sure he was presentable. Then for the hell of it he even did a breath check.

He was a bit nervous although the only sign of it was a slight perspiration on his brow.

Gathering his nerves he started to muscle his way through the crowd.

"Morning Claire."

He said evenly to the woman sitting by herself at a small table in the corner of the café. She barely spared him a glance before going back to her black coffee and newspaper. No new age latte with low fat bull that was so popular now days, just plain black. Nothing to it, simple and straight forward, nothing like the woman drinking it.

"Morning."

She finally said motioning to the chair across from her.

Simmons took the seat, then took a moment to study the woman in front of him.

Middle aged, brown hair showing only the very beginning signs of gray. Tiny square glasses framing almond shaped intelligent brown eyes.

Yep, exactly like he remembered her. The past 10 years hadn't changed a thing, she even still had the tiny little beauty mark under her left eye.

"Read the paper recently?"

She asked casually. Simmons shook his head. He didn't bother reading the newspapers. His reports had far better facts than anything the news ever had.

He shifted feeling exposed and restless in this place. However the woman refused to meet him anywhere else. He also knew that he couldn't force the reason for this meeting any faster despite him feeling that time was running short. He had to wait until she was ready to talk business.

Claire Banks was always like that. Taking her time, dancing to her own drums, as well as forcing anyone near her to follow those same drums.

Amazing they had managed to stay married for as long as they did.

"A lot of folks want the president impeached for that little mission city mishap."

Simmons shifted again. Glancing around, gods he hated this place. So crowded, they needed to speak about important matters.

"No one will pay us any mind if you just relax."

"I called you to speak of national security issues, top secret, we can't just talk in the open!"

Simmons hissed softly. Claire smiled behind her coffee cup.

"Still got that bug up your ass I see. We met for the first time here. Remember?"

Simmons stiffened further. The last thing he wanted to talk about was their past.

"You also asked for a divorce here if I recall. Funny how things moved full circle."

Claire finally set the paper down. For several seconds the two ex's stared each other down, studying each other, trying to get a feeling for what the other was thinking.

"I heard you lost your job."

Gods above it never amazed him how well informed Claire was. He never told her a thing about his job yet she always seemed to know more about it than he did.

"Got a better one."

"Really now? Do you want some coffee?"

She didn't sound like this surprised her one bit.

"No thank you."

Simmons ground out bitterly.

Claire Banks…formerly Claire Simmons didn't work for the government. She didn't work for anyone but herself from what Simmons could work out. Yet she always seemed to be in places she shouldn't or couldn't be in. She was someone that always seemed to know everything. Especially things she shouldn't know.

That was why he was here today, why he had called her and asked for this meeting.

He was still rather surprised she had accepted to come, although she had insisted on meeting at this café. He suspected if he'd been anyone else but her Ex husband she would have told them to eat it.

Claire was probably the single solitary person that knew every angle of the government.

Which meant if the government was really responsible for the Decepticons disappearance she would know about it.

The only problem…getting her to tell him.

"I'm really amazed Simmons."

Claire said elbows planted firmly on the table, as she folded her hands and leaned forward to rest her chin on them.

"That job meant everything to you. The same job your father had, that his father had, and you quietly let it slip away. The Simmons I knew would have fought for that position…even go rogue to keep it."

He flinched, gods he hated how well this woman knew him.

"A lot has changed. The job they offered was better."

"that's not what I'm talking about."  
Claire said with a smile.

"The Simmons I knew wouldn't have cared. You were always so closed minded. So tell

me…what opened your eyes?"

Simmons eyes narrowed. He had not been closed minded. He simply did his job! It was

his job to keep NBE-1 under ice.

_A job you failed Simmons. _

He lowered his eyes. His failure forced to him actually thinking about the question. After several seconds he realized something. Claire was right. She was right that something had changed. He couldn't deny he hadn't fought for his job. Something he normally would have done with tooth and claw. Had things been the same he would have done anything necessary. Yet here he was, working under Optimus Prime…working with Aliens.

Aliens that were also good mechs.

They fought and died to protect this planet.

"Someone died."

He finally said, memories of a beautiful silver sports car flashing through his mind. Before he hadn't thought about the NBE's as anything but alien. But seeing how they grieved for their companion. He had realized that although they were worlds apart, they were far less different than one would think.

"A soldier, a good guy. He shouldn't have died. He died…a lot of people died because I couldn't do my job."

Simmons lifted his head. It hurt to remember how the mech's had mourned their comrade, their friend.

Claire blinked, Simmons could identify shocked surprise in her eyes although she hide it well. If he hadn't know her so well he would have missed it.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She said, actually sound sincere. Quickly she glanced around once then turned her attention back to him.

"What did you want to ask me?"

She paused a moment staring intently at her hands. Simmons could see something warring within her. After a long moment she looked back up. To Simmons great surprise her eyes were misty.

"I'll promise you one answer. If I know it, I'll tell."  
Simmons opened his mouth, she lifted her hand halting him.

"Be careful how you word your question Simmons."

Simmons narrowed his eyes and thought. He wanted to know about the alien that was missing. But how to word his question. If he asked if she knew where it was…she might not know. But if he asked who took it then that would leave where it was open.

"I think an NBE is missing after Mission city."

He started slowly. Claire didn't blinked at the acronym, which told Simmons she probably knew what it meant.

"What happened to it?"

Claire lifted her chin.

"It disappeared."  
Simmons frowned.

"What?"

Claire took a sip of her coffee, then made a face as she realized it was now cold.

"That is question number two."

"You didn't answer my first one!"

She smiled.

"You should have known better than to play a word game with a woman."

Simmons suddenly stood up in anger almost knocking his chair over. Here he was trying to save lives and she was playing a game with him.

"It disappeared? Well that helps a lot. Thank you so much Claire!"

He grit out. She laughed softly as he started to turn.

"Still no sense of humor. Sit down Sugar."

His eyelid twitched but he did as she asked. Another quick glance around showed no one cared or noticed the small altercation.

"I told you the answer…however I'll be willing to give you everything I know for two things."

"What?"

"No no."

She said wiggling a finger in his face.

"You have to agree first."

"Claire, peoples lives are at risk!"

"Peoples lives are always at risk."

She countered smoothly.

"Agree to my undisclosed terms and I'll tell you what you want to know."

"I won't kill or betray anyone."

Claire gave Simmons a sour look.

"What kind of woman do you take me for?"

"An Evil one."  
He said without hesitation. Oh that he knew well, living with the woman taught him that. Still he needed to know what she knew, and by the way she hinting she knew a lot.

Simmons closed his eyes. Jesus he felt like he was signing his soul to the devil himself.

"Alright. I'll do whatever dirty work you want done."

Claire laughed. Laughed like she did back when they were dating. Back before work and stress and life got in the way. It was a clear and happy sound.

Nostalgic

This place, this woman, that laugh…made him remember back when.

They had met when Simmons was in college. Got married after dating off and on for a few years…got divorced after eight. Kind of like every other odd numbered couple out there.

No kids thank god, Simmons didn't want to think about how that would have complicated his life. The divorce was quick and surprisingly painless, he had been bitter but Claire hadn't shown the least bit of emotion. Get it done and get on with their lives, she didn't want her half of anything and after the papers had been signed she left.

"Its not so bad Simmons. First thing, I want to meet Sam and Optimus Prime."

Ok…and here Simmons thought this woman couldn't surprise him anymore. How the FUCK did she know Optimus's name!?

"Second."

She continued without giving Simmons time to think.

"I want a date."

"I er huh? What?"

Claire almost took another sip of her coffee, only to remember the previous taste at the last second. Setting it down and pushing it aside she leaned forward slightly.

"I thought the man I loved was lost."

Claire shook her head. Tiny wisps of brown and gray hair falling over her face. Her hair was longer than he remembered, Simmons thought suddenly. He liked it long. She always had such beautiful hair, straight and silky, brown with golden highlights. He didn't mind the grey at all, made her look distinguished

"I hated you for that, for changing on me."

"You changed to."

Claire snapped her head up giving Simmons a glare.

"Can you honestly say that? Look me in the eyes and say that. I was young people do change, but not like you did! Everything I loved about you, you took away or destroyed and for what? For the sake of your job?"

Glancing around again Claire made sure they were still being ignored. A single conversation wasn't going to carry in this crowded place even if they spoke in loud voices. No one cared about the older couple sitting alone in the corner.

"I hated you so much for so long."

Claire paused and again Simmons felt the normally confident know it all become more like the woman he had known before.

"This the world almost ends. NBE-1 is set loose, the Allspark destroyed, Sector 7 dissolved, everything you held dear and worked for burned to the ground in a single day."

Claire smiled then and Simmons felt his heart tinge in his chest.

"To be honest, I think I would like to get to know the man that's risen from the ashes. He reminds me of someone I once knew."

Simmons groaned softly. Women he would never understand them.

"I said yes, now what do you know."

Looks like he was going on a date. God he hoped Optimus didn't step on him for agreeing to the first term. Weird that that was an actual hazard of his job.

Trampled to death by boss.

Claire nodded, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"Bonecrusher was shipped to the pier. All the paper work was signed and your body counted, however he never made it onto the ship. The truck was apparently stolen. Your driver ended up in the hospital…he's brain dead so don't bother going to bug him or the family."

he stated in a no nonsense tone.

"The truck was later found in San Diego but satellite says it was taken back to Mission city first."

Simmons frowned thinking what that meant…he cursed.

"Take him back where no one would think to look."

"Exactly. The Groups name is Glass. They're…"

Claire waved a hand searching for the right word.

"Dangerous, but sloppy. Hell they probably picked up a lot of other pieces from Sectors 7's dissolve."

Ok he did NOT like the sound of that. Who the hell was Glass? What was their functions and who was in charge?

Suddenly Claire laughed again.

"they lost the robot."

"Say again?"

There was no way he heard that right. This Glass company steals a giant alien robot, covers their tracks so well he couldn't even get a glimpse of them and they just lose it?

"As I said, sloppy. They lost it. However…"

Claire grin turned slightly predatory.

"Lucky for you my dear ex husband, I happen to know everything."

"I couldn't tell."  
Simmons muttered still shocked over everything especially that Claire knew the mechs by name.

"The NBE in question was picked up by a tiny towing service and shipped to a Jim Junk Junction, a local junk yard owed by an elder man named Jim Gaphigen. That's as much as I know. So when do I get to met the big guy?"

"I'll call the boss and ask him."

He wondered if it would hurt to get stepped on, or maybe kicked like a football. He wondered if the kick itself would kill him instantly or if he'd die after hitting the ground.

Squashing…definitely bad choice of wording, getting RID of those thoughts, Simmons already had the phone to his ear to call and get the records of Jim Gaphigen at Jims Junk Junction, he wanted to know everything about him, even how loud he farted by tonight. In the morning he would go pay him a visit.

Claire nodded.

"I covered the tow truck records, so don't worry about Glass breathing down your neck."

She stood up and before Simmons could guess her intent kissed him squarely on the lips.

It was chaste and honest, no hint of anything that he could gather or pick up on. But the fact that she had the gall to kiss him after landing the bomb that was divorce on this lap, stunned him.

With that she smiled at him and started to walk off.

"Oh and be a dear and pick up the tab. Thanks."

Simmons opened his mouth to shout at her but was distracted by the phone being picked up.

"Uh what oh ya. I need a background check on a man."

Women!


	7. No time to think of a clever title

AN: Warning, I'm using a try it now for 15 minutes free internet access thing. I kind of connected before I realized I wanted to re read through this chapter. So um ya there might be some mistakes. Hopefully not to many though. My old beta hasn't sent me any word on whether they will continue to beta or not. So I guess I'm forced to ask if anyone wants to beta for me. Any takers?

Also thanks a lot for the reviews. They do mean a lot to me. And special thanks to Byrnstar, because of you I actually rewrote Springer. I hate to make him unlikable but it does seem better for the story.

And now for my final words.

STORIES YOU GOTTA READ

The Faction that Sparked him by ISTARRUNER

A GREAT story, in fact all of this authors stories kick major ass. I highly recommend them.

Adios from Cinninati or however the heck you spell it :P its cold here.

888

-1Springer came online slowly.

Systems still shocked by the missile to his gut whined in protest as the pain hit with the force of a 50 ton sledge hammer.

"Ugh."

His optics flashed as he turned his head trying to figure out what happened.

His chest hurt badly.

What happened? Why did he hurt? Processors still knocked silly slowly tried to piece together bits of memory. Did he get injured in reentry? Last he remembered was transforming into the very uncomfortable protoform shell and breaking atmo.

It had been worse than he expected.

Earths atmosphere was so thick, it was jumping into a pool of water. It had been shocking and the heat intense.

Self diagnostics was offline so he had no idea what was damaged or how badly. His processors felt sluggish, he could actually hear it whine inside his head. That wasn't normal but Springer couldn't bring himself to care. There was also a strange fuzziness to his eyesight. Things to his left were just indistinguishable blobs.

His audio functions were working just fine as he became aware of the very loud very…inventive curses ringing through the air.

He knew that voice, he also knew those curses. Ratchet always used the same words, it was volume and whether or not he accented them with a wrench to the head that changed.

He made a chirr sound of contentment. While he still felt horrible at least he was well taken care of. Nobody was better than Ratchet, and if he was taking the time to curse then it couldn't be that bad.

"Ra…chet?"

He sounded as exhausted as he felt.

A shadow fell over his form.

"Welcome to the land of the living. Slagger."

"Guh."

Was the only thing Springer could say to convey how he felt. Ratchet kept on talking not letting Springers noises interrupt him as he went on to explain how much of an idiot he was.

"And if you EVER and I mean ever!"

Springer cried out as Ratchet grabbed him by the helm and forced their optics to meet.

"EVER do anything so stupid again I will personally rip your spark casing out. Do you understand me?"

Now Springer had been threatened before. Countless times by countless bots, not all of them decepticons. But there was a saying among all bots that one should never piss off a medic. Medics were scary, and Ratchet was the Allspark monster of them all.

"You could have seriously injured Grimlock."

Springer flashed his optics.

Oh ya he remembered now. He had gotten shot by Ironhide.

Grimlock the little freak he was had jumped the human Sam. He had smelled blood and rushed to save the little fragile human. Forgetting in his haste about Ironhides programming. All things considering he was surprised he was alive. Harming a sparkling around the large black mech was pretty much signing a death warrant.

Springer grunted softly and decided a no comment was better than saying something stupid and getting slagged by Ratchet the Hatchet.

"I've talked to Prowl. He has expressed concern over your thoughts about my sparklings."

Springer stiffened slightly. He flexed his fingers trying to figure out if he could move and run if need be. He wanted to tell Ratchet they weren't really his. True his bonded had built them but slag it, Ratchet didn't have a thing to do with it. Why claim a pair of creepy and obviously wrong sparklings.

"I have scanned them both thoroughly. They are Autobots."

"Autobots don't have red optics."

He yelped in pain as Ratchet took a large wrench and whacked him over the head with it.

"Get your sorry aft out of my med bay! And Primus help you if Ironhide shoots you again, because I won't!"

Springer rolled off the table, just barely avoiding said wrench as Ratchet threw it at him with all his strength. A loud clang sounded through the small room as the wrench imbedded itself in the wall.

Jeez Ratchet was fritzed!

"I'm going I'm going!"

Springer rubbed the side of his helm, now sporting a good sized dent.

He shouldn't have come here. He hadn't wanted to come to this little planet.

But Wheeljack was going, which meant the freak sparklings were, which meant that Arcee was.

And he would follow Arcee anywhere.

He loved her. Wanted to bond with her with all of his spark and more.

Arcee knew of his interest. He hadn't been subtle about it. There was just something about her. She was a deadly and fierce fighter. She was intelligent and skilled. Everything he admired in a bot. Not only that but he loved her curves. The femme body just appealed to him. He wanted her so badly.

He'd been chasing her, trying to attract her interest for over a thousand vorns now. She hadn't really given him any sign she was interested, but nor did she outright turn him away. It was alike a dance, he took a step forward and she sidestepped away.

Lately though she had been noticeably warmer toward him.

Springer grumbled softly to himself. And now it looked like a moment of not thinking was going to alienate Arcee from him.

Arcee was very protective of both the Sparklings, but especially toward Grimlock since he was the one most bots were hostile to. She had just started to warm up to his advances but now…she was just as cold as back when he'd first met her.

He had a feeling he was in a lot of trouble.

Optimus was going to chew his aft over what he had done with the Sparkling.

Never mind that he had been trying to protect the soft organic human. What was he supposed to do let the little monster maul the human to death? Everyone was acting like he had committed a crime. He didn't hurt the little red eyed freak.

Still grumbling and in a bit of pain he made his way toward the rec room. He had already downloaded a small map given to him that pinpointed where the human guards were as well as what all the small buildings were for.

It was night out. A moon hung large in the sky illuminating everything in a silver light. He paused a moment to look at it. He had flown past the dead moon seen it up close. It had been nothing special to look at, just a dead rock in space. Yet it seemed so much more beautiful viewed from here.

He might not have wanted to originally come here, but even he had to admit the planet was beautiful. Rich and vibrant with life. It was…slightly used by the humans and their progress but it wasn't past the point of repair. It could be fixed. Perhaps he ought to suggest that to Prime. It would put them in the humans good graces even more if they helped clean up their planet.

He walked into the rec room. He stiffened slightly seeing both Arcee and Bumblebee sitting together talking softly.

He desperately wanted to speak with her. However she seemed to be enjoying the conversation. She always seemed to enjoy others company more than his.

He grabbed a cube, glancing around and noticed sadly that there were no energon converters.

"Here."

Springer jumped slightly when a white and green hand took the cube from him.

_Wheeljack._

"The pumps over here."

Springer watched as Wheeljack worked the pump, producing a strange light green liquid. Sensors in his olfactory vents registered an organic based mix. Figures fuel on this planet would be created from organics. When Wheeljack offered him the cube he took it but didn't drink at first.

Wheeljack was probably the most intelligent bot Springer had ever met. He was also the kindest and most patient. He couldn't think of anyone that didn't like Wheeljack…except maybe Ratchet. Looking at those two one would think they hated each other. Then again maybe that was just the nature of the Ratchet beast. The twins had once told him that the more he yelled and threatened bodily harm the more he liked ya. Which in Wheeljacks case would mean he loved him with all his spark.

Although that theory was probably shot out of the roof. There had been real hatred and angry in Ratchet eyes when he had gotten yelled at.

Guilt stabbed him in his spark. He might not trust Grimlock but he owned his creator his life. Springer couldn't think of how many times the quick thinking Cybertronian had saved his Aft, a lot of bots Afts.

"Wheeljack…"  
Wheeljacks fins flashed a light blue.

"It was a mistake. Grimlocks fine, your fine…everyone's ok."

There was a sad look in his optics. His tone soft and light although Springer couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. Wheeljack looked like he wanted to say something more on the subject, but he didn't. Instead he motioned to the cube.

"Go on drink up. Ratchet told me to make sure you took enough in."

Springer looked down at the fuel. He was unsure about this. He'd never taken in organic based fuel before.

"Its won't kill ya."  
Jack said with amusement coloring his voice and fins.

Springer took a sip. Like Wheeljack said it tasted funny but it was surprisingly good.

"Keep an optic on your meters. Its easy to over energize on this stuff."

Wheeljack warned as he steered them toward the table Arcee and Bumblebee sat at. Springer tried to veer off, go to another but Wheeljack wouldn't have any of that.

"Good Afternoon Arcee, Bee."

Wheeljack said cheerfully.

"Yo."

Springer unable to flee now sat down stiffly next to Arcee. It was the only available seat as Wheeljack took the one beside bee. Slagger probably did that on purpose.

Wheeljack and Bee were talking. Springer tried to pay attention, to learn what he missed, but it was hard. He just wanted to sulk for a bit but no one was letting him.

"ACK get back here GRIMLOCK!"

Springer almost drew his gun as something small and silver jumped out of nowhere and landed on his head. Only the familiar clicks and whirls of a sparkling kept him from over reacting. The red eyes didn't help that was for sure. Every time he got a glimpse he thought a Decepticon was jumping him.

He shuddered as he fought the urge to rip the Sparkling from his head and fling him.

The little freak had no fear that's for sure. He didn't even hesitate as he climbed all over his head. One could think he'd be at least slightly nervous around Springer now.

"Grimlock!"

A human came running in. It was Sam Witwicky the human that had somehow managed to kill Megatron.

"You little brat."

The boy glared at the sparkling panting as he tried to catch his breath. Grimlock made a surprisingly human sounding laughing noise at him. Letting go of Springers helm Grimlock jumped onto the table.

"Don't let him have your fuel!"

Arcee yelped as as one everyone but Springer grabbed their cubes off the table.

Ever before she spoke Grimlock made a straight line to the fuel. Springer jerking into action reached over the small bot and grabbed the cube.

Red eyes brightened in disappointment.

"Ratchet makes a special blend for them. Grimlock however seems to want what we have."

Bee said filling Springer in.

"How's the Baby sitting going?"

Bee continued. The human glared at him.

"I told you I can't do this! They are faster and stronger than me, BOTH of them."

Grimlock jumped from the table, Springer got a glimpse of something white in his claws but couldn't make out what it was.

"Ack!"

The human yelped as Grimlock tackled him making playful chirps sounds. He then proceeded to sit on the human and play with the white thing in his hands.

Red faced the human yelled.

"SEE the baby can sit on the sitter THIS ISN'T RIGHT!"  
Acree, Bee, and Wheeljack chuckled.

Bee didn't miss a beat as he told the kid.

"Think of it as training. You'll be in great shape for boot by the time Ratchet releases you."

Everyone's obvious amusement allowed Springer to relax. Despite the enthusiasm in the Sparklings tackling he was being gentle.

"I WOULD be getting in shape at boot if I wasn't a being held against my will by a paranoid psychotic madman of a medic!"

That made everyone laugh although Springer had to wonder why the human was apparently restricted to the base although if Ratchet was involved it was for a medical reason. But that didn't make sense, why not just send the human to one of their own doctors?

Weird.

"What that in his claws?"

Springer asked. He focused on the small white…creature. Yep it was definitely a little white organic.

"A rat."

Wheeljack said and at Springer confused look he elaborated.

"A small rodent, non sentient. They are pests but some like this white one humans have as pets. I had Sam's creator pick some up for me. I hoping it'll teach Grimlock to be more careful with organics."

Grimlock whistled and lifted the rat up with both hands as if to show it off.

"Ookay."

"he's doing better. This ones lasted almost 3 hours."

Springer blinked.

"How many has he killed?"

Wheeljack shrugged looking slightly sheepish.

"Counting the wild one he caught, four."

Springer didn't care about pests. However he was rather worried about the humans. If Grimlock accidentally killed at all he might kill a human. Granted humans were a lot bigger and tougher but they were still fragile. Why didn't anyone see that Grimlock was dangerous around the human? Why couldn't they see that he could seriously hurt Sam Witwicky? Were they blind? Springer wanted to tear out his gears and scream!

Wheeljack and Ratchet he could understand, they were the sparklings creators, but why didn't anyone else see what a little freak those two were? They were born without the Allspark and Grimlock had red eyes!

Springer hunched his shoulders thinking back to a few that had agreed with him.

There had been CliffJumper and Powerglide…a few others to. Some had even tried to offline Grimlock although Arcee and Wheeljack were way to talented fighters to allow that. He had defended the freak once to, although it was only to try and gain Arcee's favor. Being nice to the monster seemed a good way to win her good graces.

"Get off Grimlock."

"Where's Swoop?"

Wheeljack asked looking around.

"Last I saw, climbing tree's."

Sam said struggling under the sparkling.

He suddenly rolled. Springer couldn't help but snort as the sparkling made a squeak of surprise and fell over. The white lab rat also squeaked as it fell out of the sparklings grasp and made a mad dash toward freedom. Grimlock however proved far faster and quickly pounced on it.

"He's getting faster."

Springer said impressed as well as worried. He could barely remember a time when Sparklings existed but he did seem to remember them being all arms and legs. No grace and no coordination, Grimlock didn't seem to have that awkwardness. Actually Swoop was rather graceful as well now that he thought about it.

He wondered if it was because Wheeljack created them. A mech that went to great lengths in perfection no matter what he did, or if it was because of their strange sparking.

"Come one Grimlock. Lets go find your brother before Ratchet yells at us."

The human tugged on the sparklings shoulders and together they left.

Springer nearly fell out of his seat when a hand laid on top of his unexpectedly.

He blinked at the much smaller graceful hand. Followed the arm attached and further still up to Arcee's face.

Both Bee and Wheeljack stopped talking but he didn't notice. Heck he didn't even notice as they gave each other smirking looks.

"Say Jack, lets go help Sam."

"What a superb idea Bee."

There was a long silence as the two bots stared at each other.

"Why?"

She asked simply.

Springer didn't pretend to NOT know what she was talking about.

"He could have hurt Sam. He did hurt the human, I could smell blood."

Arcee snorted and turned her head away. She also removed her hand much to Springers dismay.

"I'm not asking why he grabbed him off Sam."

She turned back to him. Her optics were so light they were nearly white.

"You really hurt Wheeljack. You know that right?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Its killing him inside with how others are reacting to his creations. And to see a bot he thought he could trust with them…say those horrible things!"

Springer knew that. Although perhaps he never thought of it that way. He knew Wheeljack had trusted him with the sparklings. He'd even left them in his care once when him and Arcee went searching for fuel. He wouldn't hurt the Sparklings. He didn't want to offline them like Cliffjumper and Powerglide. At least…he didn't think he did.

Springer lowered his gaze, thinking.

"I didn't hurt him. I wouldn't hurt him. Why does it matter what I think about him?"

Arcee made a sound of disgust.

"You are truly a pig headed blind fool."

Ok that was a very human term. He hadn't expected it and it shocked him to listen closely.

"I know what you want Springer."

Again she placed her hand on his.

"And now that the war is over…I was prepared to give it to you."

He felt like his spark wanted to sing, but at the same time he could almost hear an ominous 'but' yet to be said.

"But I don't think I can bond with someone that hates like you do."

He shuddered, a horrible sinking feeling settling deep within his spark. His optics flashed in pain as he tried to find his vocalizer to speak.

Arcee beat him to the punch.

"Just think about it Springer. You're a good bot. I know you are. Make me believe it again, make me change my mind."

With that she stood up and left the rec room.

His mind ran over the conversation, trying to figure out what was going on. How did he screw up so badly? Was there anyway to fix this? Could he fix it?

"Springer, Report to my Office!"

Optimus's voice echoed through his comm link.

Great…just great. This was just what he needed right now.

"Coming."

He said and stood up.

He had a lot to think about, and knowing Optimus he'd have a lot of hard labor coming to him to think it over with.

8888

Ok…

Mikaela stood outside her truck on the passengers side. Her arms crossed with an annoyed look on her face.

In her truck lay the sleeping (and drooling) pretender shell of Bonecrushers. He had fallen asleep not long after they left the party. Now she had no idea what to do with him. Should she leave him in the truck and hope he didn't puke, or did she try to do the impossible and move a mountain?

She tapped her finger against her forearm.

"Or…"  
She smiled suddenly.

This body wasn't real. It was just a weird type of hologram.

"I can unplug that device and you'll just disappear."

She nodded to herself and started toward the garage.

It only took her a moment to reach the real Bonecrusher. Scurrying up the ladder she made her way toward his head. His mech body looked as out of it as the shell. His eye was dimmed and unfocused.

She tilted her head listening to the machinery in his chest.

The softer and slower sounds of pumps and gears told her he was sleeping.

"I can't believe you drank so much so quickly. Idiot."

Jumping down into the hole Mikaela quickly found the holo projector. What she found took her by surprise.

"That's strange."

She said fingering the wires that lead to the device.

Frowning Mikaela grabbed a shop light she'd hung up and shone it on the part. The wires were…well it wasn't solder. But some sort of metal was definitely forming on the wires and plugs holding the device in place. She touched the welds. It honestly looked like a solder weld, only out of some other kind of metal, not the soft silver based wire used in soldering. Was it some kind of self repair thing Bonecrushers body was doing? After all his body was slowly repairing itself. She was just helping it along and fixing what couldn't be fixed. But what she found strange was the fact it was happening now. The welds hadn't been there before. Was it because the device was turned on?

Well…whatever was going on. The projector was now a permanent part of his body. There was no way she'd be able to unhook it without causing pain and some damage. And there was no way for her to turn it off. Bonecrusher had to do that.

"Well shit."

Mikaela leaned back, resting against something in Bonecrushers chest.

"Guess I'll try to move a mountain."

Uh she was not looking forward to that. But she didn't feel comfortable just leaving him in her truck. Maybe she could splash water on him or something and he'd wake up.

She was rather surprised tonight. Bonecrusher had been an almost…well gentlemen was definitely not the answer but he'd been tolerable. He didn't threaten anyone's lives and he'd actually had a conversation with Mrs. Jenkins.

_He said he might be willing to start over. _

She shivered remembering how Bonecrusher had leaned over and whispered in her ear.

Oh lord why did that affect her so. It was stupid and a little bit weird but she hadn't been able to squash the explosion of yearning.

Her ears were very sensitive she couldn't help it. She thought his shell was very attractive. It didn't help either that his personality while…rough around the edges was still appealing to her.

He wasn't a jerk like Trent had been. Trent had been all talk and nothing else. He was self centered and spoiled. Didn't know what he was talking about half the time.

Bonecrusher…he was cruel and hateful. But he was also experienced. He knew what pain and suffering was.

He'd been a soldier in a war that spanned thousands if not millions of years.

Bonecrushers cruelty wasn't born out of selfishness and growing up spoiled. It was born out of hardship and war.

She didn't know why that made a difference but it did.

Jesus she was a weirdo lusting after an alien.

She couldn't deny it either. She knew what attraction and lust were. It was the reason she dated Trent for so long. Not that she ever let him get beyond second base. One thing she was very proud of and would probably shock everyone at her old school, she was a virgin.

Trent had tried, oh lord did he try to get into her pants. She even had to slap him once when he didn't stop when she told him to. Despite being so little she could hit hard, it had stunned Trent and struck home the fact that she wasn't playing around.

Climbing out of his chest again Mikaela double checked on the real Bonecrusher.

Out like a light, systems humming softly.

He actually didn't look bad as a robot either. The angular features and harsh lines on his face held their own type of appeal.

_OH GOD I did not just think that. _

That's it, she was insane totally and utterly insane!

Shaking her head violently Mikaela went down the ladder and back to the 'pretender shell'. She crossed her arms again, wondering how she was supposed to do this. She decided there was no way she could move him on her own. She would have to wake him up or just leave him here.

"Bonecrusher."

She said loudly.

"Wake up."

She shook his shoulder, softly at first then harder. He moaned softly and tried to turn away from her. She decided annoying was the best course of action and flicked his ear with her finger and she wasn't exactly gentle doing it either. He flinched and brought a hand up to cover the offended body part. He finally opened his eye.

"Jesus you're fucked up."

Mikaela smiled. Bonecrusher didn't say anything although he did give her a piss poor excuse of a dirty look.

Grabbing his thick arm Mikaela maneuvered so it was draped over her shoulder. Being a reasonable smart mech he instantly understood what she wanted. He got his legs out of the truck, leaning on her heavily.

"Come on Crush. Lets get you inside before you crash. I hear water helps a hangover."

"It gets worse?"

He rasped out in dismay.

"Ya, just don't you dare barf on me."

Bonecrusher moaned as the world spun around him. The pleasant warm fuzzy feelings he'd gotten when he started drinking were quickly going away. He felt hot. A heat that internal fans couldn't cure…even if he had them in this form. His head hurt and his midsection was making unpleasant flip flops. If he didn't know better he'd say the organ had somehow gotten loose and was really turning inside him.

He was pretty sure humans didn't work that way.

"What's barf?"  
He was forced to ask. Primus he hated asking about words. Why couldn't humans call something by a single name. Why did they complicate things by idioms, expressions, synonyms, and all that other useless junk?

"Trust me, you don't wanna know."

Mikaela grunted as she tried to bear his weight. She could actually feel her body creakin.

"Crush, you need to stand up. Come on, just a little ways."

Working together they started toward the house.

"Come on big guy. One foot after the other."

Mikaela tried to keep her mind on the task at hand. Getting Crush to her couch.

Her hormones had other plans. She could feel him. It was strange. This body wasn't real. It was an advanced holo form or something like that. Yet she couldn't help but notice how warm he was. It was disconcerting. And the more uncomfortable she was, the more she noticed every curve and muscle pressed against her.

"How do you humans do that?"

Crush suddenly asked. Mikaela swallowed hard as she felt tiny shivers run down her back. The shell had turned his head so that his breath tickled the side of her neck and ear.

"Do what?"

She asked after a long moment. She was proud she could ask the question without her voice squeaking.

"Change you're scents."

He added to his sentence by taking a long and loud sniff.

Mikaela felt her cheeks heating up.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"S'good."

Her stomach fluttered, and she was pretty sure she was blushing hard enough to light up the dark.

_Oh god did he just nuzzle into my neck!?_

Mikaela nearly dropped him she was so shocked.

"Crush, please don't do that."

She said softly trying not to over react.

"Hm why?"

He sounded so out there, his words slurred and his voice husky.

"Its making me uncomfortable. Just stop."

Mikaela had a horrible memory of Ratchet and the mentioning of hormones.

_Oh god! Can Crush smell my excitement? Ratchet said something about pheromones and stuff to Sam when we first met him. _

Which lead to another thought. One that nearly gave her a heart attack. Something she really wasn't prepared for and had no idea what to do about.

_OH MY FUCKING GOD! That means he likes the smell of me being turned on. _

And that just made her stomach flutter more, turning into heat in her lower belly.

She shivered, which made Bonecrusher turn his head again to look at her.

"Crush, get your legs under you!"

Mikaela cried out in alarm as Bonecrusher stumbled his legs buckled suddenly.

Mikaela really didn't stand a chance. Crush was so much taller and heavier than her, both of them pitched forward.

The actual fall took only a second but was enough time for Mikaela to think about how much this was going to hurt…and it did.

Stars exploded, and her breath was kicked out of her as she impacted the ground, over two pounds of drunk guy landing on top of her. It hurt worse than anything she'd ever felt, including that car wreck two years ago, and getting knocked on her ass by Starscreams missiles.

"Crush…you're…get off."

She managed to pant out. The world was spinning. Bonecrusher, such an apt name, it was exactly what he was doing. Dead weight, pressed down on her ribs making it hard to breath. She slapped weakly at his arm, she'd managed to hit her head pretty good on the ground. Thank god they were still in the grass and not on her concrete walkway.

"Crush."

She almost cried in relief when Crush grunted and lifted himself up. He didn't totally get off her, but he took enough weight off that she could actually breath.

He turned his head, somehow in the fall they had wound up almost face to face.

They were so close their noses were almost touching.

Everything, even her heart stopped.

It was a moment lost in time. Mikaela had heard of that term before. People saying that time itself stopped for them. But she hadn't ever really believed it.

Maybe the closest she had ever gotten was when she told Sam how glad she got in the car with him.

But this…this was different. And she wasn't sure, but it looked like Crush felt it to.

He went still above her, his single eye meeting hers.

Her mouth opened as she licked her lips to try and wet them. Not that that helped much, her mouth had become just as dry. Her heart raced, and her body was trembling.

His eye dropped to her lips at the movement. Mikaela's breath catch.

He wasn't going to kiss her…was he?

Confusion whirled in her mind. Why would a robot want to kiss her was first in her mind? Followed closely by…why wasn't she stopping him? If he tried…she…she would let him. It was blowing her mind!

_I'm insane. _

She swallowed, waiting to see what he would do.

Frown lines appeared on his forehead and in the corner of his eye. He looked confused his one eye going between her eyes and her lips.

"I think…"

Bonecrusher closed his eye looking pained.

"I think I miss high-grade."

He suddenly looked decidedly green.

"OH god, don't puke on me! CRUSH OFF! Don't you dare puke on me!!"

It was a miracle, Mikaela thought later. That she was able to wiggle out from under him, and out of the way before he revisited his boozing ways in the worst way possible.

"Gross."

She said making a face. Bonecrusher was making some nasty noises, and it was all Mikaela could do to keep him from falling into his own cookies.

She rubbed his back trying to comfort the alien mech through one of the worst things a human body could do. Puking followed by dry heaving.

"Hey hey, easily there. Its alright. Just relax. It'll be over soon."

She whispered softly. At least he had short hair that didn't need to be held back.

Bonecrusher moaned miserably as the dry heaves finally subsided.

"Can you stand?"

Bonecrusher wiped his mouth one the back of his sleeve. Mikaela made a face but didn't say anything. She would just wash the shirt.

Finally he nodded and attempted to stand.

Helping the best she could, they somehow got Crush back onto his feet. They made it to the couch without anymore problems.

"Here, sit down. Ok take that shirt off. I'll get you some water."

She waited patiently as Crush tried to get out of his now puke crusted shirt. It wasn't easy for him, the unfamiliar movements clumsily and awkward. She really tried not to ogle his abs as he did this, shirt half on trapping his arms and his head, leaving a muscular, _Ooohh he's got a happy trail! Bad Mikaela don't look…_stomach bare.

He finally managed to get the shirt off. Mikaela made a mental note to grab a washrag as well as a glass of water. Over all Crush was lucky, but he did get a little bit of um…ya….here and there on him.

A suddenly laugh grabbed Mikaela's attention just in time to avoid an incoming puke covered shirt missile.

"Ack! Asshole!"

She said trying to be offended like she knew she should be. However his chuckle was alarmingly disarming. She couldn't help but laugh with him. Holding the shirt at arms length Mikaela dropped it off in a hamper.

She came back with a glass of water.

"Here."

He took it and just like with his drinks downed it in almost one gulp.

"You don't have to gulp it down like that."

He shrugged.

"Never taken water in through my mouth before."

Mikaela knew even his mech body needed water. She had seen the hoses and lines running through his body. He had a tank much like a water tank in a car on his left side. There had been a cap, no doubt he just poured water into himself whenever he needed it.

Mikaela sat on the couch with him and handed him the rag.

He didn't need to ask what it was for as he cleaned himself up. Even mechs knew how to take a bath, different bodies didn't make that different.

"Sooo what did we learn today."

Mikaela grinned teasingly at him.

"That Mrs. Jenkins is trying to poison me."

He said with utter conviction.

"She's a sweet old lady. You just drank to much. One wouldn't have made you sick, but you drank like four in a row, very quickly."

Bonecrusher made a noise and titling sideways allowed himself to fall over. A fall that much to Mikaela's utter shock put his head in her lap. She squeaked, her body going stiff as he shifted so he could look up at her.

He was so long, most of his body was hanging over the edges, yet he still managed to look comfortable.

"Hey Crush."

She said trying to keep her voice even. Seemed that Bonecrusher was a clingy drunk. It was weird, and not helping her weird thoughts at all, but she didn't mind. He wasn't trying anything inappropriate. Nothing she hated worse than beating off some drunk guy. A big reason why she never went partying with Trent or his friends.

"Hmm?"  
"Um why don't you just turn the holo projector off? Its this form that's sick right?"

She asked. Bonecrusher frowned but didn't get up.

"Wouldn't matter. My processors somehow affected. I'd still feel sick no mater what."

Well that made absolutely no sense to Mikaela. Why would drinking in this form that wasn't really real to begin with affect his real body? She didn't ask though, he'd probably just claim she wouldn't understand. Which was Bonecrusher-ese that meant HE didn't understand.

"You never answered my question. Why did you save me?"

Mikaela looked down at him. Not sure why, she touched his hair, gently petting the top of his head. She was surprised at how soft his hair was.

Bonecrusher seemed to like the touch, tilting his head into it and closing his eye.

It seemed a drunk Bonecrusher was a relaxed and friendly one.

"I'm really not sure. Like you said, if it was just the thought of you getting melted down that bothered me I would have contacted the others."

She lowered her head, and for the next several minutes simply petted his hair.

This was nice. Trent never just let her relax like this. If they were touching and alone his first thoughts went to screwing. For some reason he thought that if she was touching him in anyway, even if it was in a totally non sexual way that it meant it was ok to come on to her.

She liked how Bonecrusher just sat here and didn't do anything. Course comparing the two probably wasn't fair. Bonecrusher wasn't a horny teenage guy, Trent was.

Shaking her head she tried to focus on the subject at hand.

"I don't know."

And that was the truth. She ran her hand through his hair slightly jealous. She wished her hair as was silky and soft as this.

"Did you really mean it, when you told Mrs. Jenkins you were starting over?"

Bonecrusher opened his eye.

"I don't know."

He said obviously making her eat her own words.

"Humans live for such a short time."

He continued.

"do you even understand how long Autobots and Decepticons have been fighting. Its been a long time even by our standards. Even with nothing to fight over, there are those that will continue to fight."

He laughed, and unlike when he tossed his shirt at her, there was nothing fun about this laugh.

"the Allspark may be gone, but Hatred remains."

Mikaela felt her heart leap in her chest. He had hissed that last sentence in the same tone as he did when he first started talking to her. A voice full of malice and hatred.

She had heard of people having poison in there voices but she never believed it until now.

His voice almost literally dripped liquid hatred.

Mikaela was sorry to hear that. The hatred in his voice made her feel like crying.

_Not that I'm surprised. _

He usually didn't talk like this. Perhaps wary that she might stop fixing him, or maybe even tell the Autobots about him if he scared her to much.

But every now and then she heard it. Fury and hatred, distain and murderous intent…all held in check…by survival instincts? Pride? She wasn't sure.

It was terrifying to hear but it was also so very sad.


	8. Decepticons only, No Autobots allowed

He was important. He was useless. He was crazy. He was a genius.

It all depended on whom you talked to.

Starscream considered the mech standing before him. He knew the light tan mech was all of the above and more. It just depended on the day and mood. Right now he just thanked Primus that the mech seemed to be somewhat grounded. He was actually looking at him seriously and considering Starscream's request. Pit, he'd actually shown up when called. That was the first in several vorns. Usually Starscream would have to send someone to find him. Not a fun assignment, because if the mech didn't want to come there was always a fight.

"Earth?" the mech asked his head tilting slightly. "Don't wanna."

Starscream sighed, a habit he'd picked up from Earth. It was amazing really. He hadn't done more than hide out until the big battle, but somehow he'd managed to pick up several habits from the fleshies of that planet.

He studied the mech. Average height, slightly thinner and more streamlined than most, unusually so since he wasn't a flier. He wore a battle mask over his lower face and a visor that allowed the light of his red optics to shine through.

"Earth is where we are going. As your leader, I'm asking you to come."

The mech looked down and shuffled his feet. He was very handsome; maybe not as good looking as Starscream himself, but the mech in front of him couldn't be called ugly. Starscream personally liked his hands. Small and sleek, long fingers with small gears and sensors that allowed him to do his work so well.

"I don't like squishies."

"You don't have to leave the ship."

Starscream hated the fact he couldn't just order the mech to come along. But he'd seen how this one reacted to orders. Even Megatron himself had never managed/gained any kind of control over him. What made it worst was the desperate fact that they _needed_ him.

He was the only mech that could perform as a medic of any skill. Sure, Soundwave wasn't a slouch at putting together a bot - he had enough sparklings to prove it - but he wasn't a medic. If anyone was seriously injured they might lose those few precious bots still living. And with the AllSpark gone, Starscream refused to waste lives needlessly as Megatron had.

Extinction did not appeal to him at all.

They couldn't leave this bot behind. The Decepticons, no matter what Starscream would like to believe, were at a tactical disadvantage (without him).

"I don't?" The mech's left optic was flashing erratically, something that bugged the Pit out of the Seeker. The optic had been that way for over a million years now, but the bot in front of him refused to fix it, as well as his scrambled processors. And Primus help any that tried to force him. Before his accident he'd been a very good leader and one of the best fighters. He had been brutal, deadly, calculating, loyal, everything Megatron wanted and more in a squad leader. He sent his people in, devastated the enemy and left.

He'd also been extremely modest about his abilities, as a leader, a medic, and as an inventor. Refreshing amongst the over-inflated ego slaggers that seemed to lurk everywhere.

Then there had been the accident. Now he was just insane. Still modest, still a genius but now, in some ways very sparkling like. The hatred and brutality were gone, as was the cruelty. But that didn't mean he wasn't still dangerous. You did _not_ want to make this one mad.

Injury, pain, even the prospect of deactivation didn't seem to bother him at all. He was a mad bot that no one dared mess with. Especially after he built the recharge bed he was currently using with parts he'd ripped out of his last opponent.

"You can stay on the ship," Starscream assured him. He kept his movements slow and easy not wanting to startle him. He didn't try to make optic contact. Even if the medic was looking straight at you did not mean he was seeing. Or worst sometimes it even made him nervous or violent.

"I don't like squishies," the bot repeated. He turned staring off into space. He seemed to be looking at something /no one else could see. Starscream offlined his optics. It was such a tragedy that such a talented bot remained like this. "But I'll go."

Starscream brightened his optics pleased.. He now had everyone he needed to go back to Earth.

He glanced over at Soundwave whom was standing silently to his left. The Seeker felt a swell of pride and other emotions as he realized this was exactly how Soundwave had stood beside Megatron.

The blue bot was looking at their new medic with a strange expression on his usually blank features. Starscream had to wonder what the telepathic mech was picking up in that ones presence.

"Sir!" Starscreams communications screen came to life. The image was that of Thrust, one of the few remaining conehead Seekers.

"Report."

"The Combaticons just commed in. They'll be here in less than a joor."

Starscream frowned, wondering if this was good or bad news. Normally, it would have been great news; the Combaticons were a fierce team and something to truly fear. However, Brawl had died on Earth, greatly diminishing their power as a combiner team. And there might be…mental issues he'd have to deal with. Most of the team was fairly stable, surely they would either move on, or take on another mech to fill the gap. Pickings would be slim, but taking on an unworthy teammate was better (or so he'd heard) than living with the pain caused by the loss.

"Good. Tell them that…."

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Starscream nearly shot something as an unholy sound suddenly ripped through his office. He barely had time to take his spark out of his throat before the insane medic went tearing out of his office, all the while giggling madly.

"Sir? Was that..?" 

"Yes." Starscream wanted to shoot something. Internals grinding he cursed Bonecrusher's loss. The huge mech had been a royal pain, but he'd also been a decent medic. Offlining his optics he spoke to Thrust.

"Better warn Onslaught, looks like his 'admirer' is going to be waiting."

Thrust saluted muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'poor bastard' before turning off the com.

Starscream chuckled. Yes he had to agree, Onslaught was the leader of the Combaticons, and while insanely gifted when it came to battle tactics, he also had a temper like the Pit itself if things went wrong. The Onslaught and the medic had never gotten along before the accident for many reasons, but by some strange glitch after the accident, Onslaught suddenly found himself said medic's sole focus whenever he was around.

(It was) kind of scary actually. After all, who would want to interface with someone that might take you apart during recharge afterward? Hell, he might get the idea to try it _during_ the act…

"Was he speaking the truth? About going to Earth," Starscream asked Soundwave, trying to get his mind off interfacing. He had better things to worry about than unwanted attentions amongst his soldiers. like making sure the tan mech didn't jump ship.

"Unknown," Soundwave replied in his notable flat toned voice. The telepath turned toward Starscream. "Current destination unadvised."

Starscream turned in his chair…formerly Megatron's chair. Oh, how he loved sitting here. He leaned back in it, moving the chair back and forth slightly. It was almost too small for him. Megatron had been a huge mech, but he didn't have the wingspan that Starscreams new form carried. He'd probably need to get a new chair, just not right now. This chair was a symbol of his new power. Once things settled down a bit he was get a new one. "You know as well as I do that too many bots want revenge."

Personally, Starscream wanted to give that human child a metal. Yes, it was slightly embarrassing that a mere youngling defeated Megatron where he could not. However, Starscream could see how it had happened. The kid got lucky, and was fool enough or brave enough to get close enough to use the AllSpark as a weapon. Not even Megatron in his so-called greatness could withstand that kind of power.

"The Autobots will flip if you kill that human," a tiny voice said as it jumped up onto his desk. Starscream gave Rumble an annoyed look. How the hell did this little freak get into his office? He glanced at Soundwave before turning his attention back to the Cassetticon.

"True, but the others are restless. You know they won't settle down until Megatron's death is avenged."

"Megatron got my brother killed. _SLAG_ HIM!" Rumble snarled crossing his arms.

Starscream pressed his lips together. None of the Cassetticons were taking Frenzy's death very well. Soundwave hadn't even blinked when he got the news, but Starscream was certain he was seething inside as well. If there was one thing Soundwave valued above even his loyalty to Megatron, it was his sparklings.

Well, not that they were really sparklings anymore. War had forced them to mature early. But they were the youngest Decepticons. Might even be younger than any of the Autobots, although they would probably never prove that.

"Earth is a rich planet," Starscream said slowly. "I have no doubts Optimus Prime plans to settle there."

Starscream paused. There was also more, though he would never tell Rumble or Soundwave that. It was illogical but he couldn't shake the feeling they needed to go to Earth. That something incredibly important was about to happen.

Mentally shaking his head, Starscream gave the answer they expected. "This is a mission of revenge. The humans can't expect to stand against us without repercussions."

"If you say so," Rumble said softly. "Do you think they dumped Frenzy like the others?"

The odds were against Rumble if he wished to find his brothers' body. Who knows what the humans might have done with the remains? After all , Frenzy had been much smaller than the other mechs and might prove useful as study material to them.

Soundwave shifted making a soft almost growl sound in the back of his throat.

"Stop reading my mind if you don't like what I'm thinking." Starscream growled back, giving the blue mech a darkly amused look. "Set a course for Earth."

Soundwave nodded and without a word left the room. Rumble watched his creator leave before turning back to Starscream.

"It's kind of strange, Starscream. I wouldn't think you'd give a damn about Megatron's killer."

"I don't."

"I get the whole a lot of bots want revenge thing. But why are you allowing this? It's ridiculous. The AllSpark is…gone." Rumbles voice cracked even though it was obvious he tried to keep calm. "Going to Earth is a waste of resources. There's nothing left to fight over."

Starscream regarded Rumble silently. The tiny bot was suffering a lot from losing his brother. Normally he couldn't stop himself from joining in a fight. He was a backstreet brawler that loved nothing more than to throw his tiny weight around. Deceptively strong for one so small, he used how others underestimated him to overcome much larger mechs.

"Are you questioning my Orders?"

Rumble jerked almost falling off the table. He straighten up, a nervous look in his optics as he suddenly realized he had over stepped his boundaries big time.

"No…Sir."

Starscream glared at the tiny bot. Soundwave was now second in command. He was allowed to question Starscream.

He actually preferred it. Soundwave was an intelligent bot that missed very little. As long as he didn't get…uppity then Starscream had no problems in him voicing his thoughts.

However Soundwaves Sparklings, mere younglings with no rank or power not given to them by their creator was another story.

Starscream glared at the nervous youngling for almost a full breem. Rumble didn't dare look Starscream in the optics, nor did he try to leaving without permission.

Finally Starscream nodded and leaned back in his chair again.

"There is more," he finally said, although he'd kept silent about his own inner feelings there was more to the story he could tell. "A fragment of the AllSpark survived."

Rumble looked up surprised there hadn't been a physical reprimand as well as the fact he hadn't been kicked out of Starscreams office. He took a moment to mull over what Starscream said. What those words truly meant. His optics brightened in hope. "Do you think…it might..?" Rumble was too excited to voice his thoughts.

"I won't know until I examine it," he replied. After all, Starscream had been a scientist before the war. He was probably the only one left with the skills needed to examine the precious metal. "The Autobots have it. Rumble, I'd rather this not get out. It would be terrible to get hopes up only to find that the Allspark is truly gone. This is a mission of revenge."

"Yes, sir. I won't say a word." Rumble clapped a hand on his chest just over his spark startling Starscream. A salute, a sign of ultimate respect given to a leader. Starscream opened his mouth to speak, but the tiny bot had already jumped off his desk and was out the door before he could get a word out.

He hadn't expected that.

He hadn't expected to be treated like a leader rather than a replacement.

It was strange. Starscream had expected to have to fight tooth and claw, as the humans would put it for this position. Yet when he returned with the news of Megatron's death. Soundwave was instantly by his side and no one blinked an optic as he took command.

Granted, he had been leader in the thousands of years Megatron had been missing - but

he still didn't expect the almost…dare he think it, _warm_ welcome.

Of course…in the Vorns that he'd been leader, the Decepticons have had victory after victory. Starscream wasn't primarily a fighter, not like Megatron had been. He didn't run into a situation and blast everything without a plan or thoughts on how many might get killed. Megatron had. He was brute strength, and while Megatron was extremely intelligent he didn't rarely bothered with planning in an actually fight. To Megatron, a victory was a victory no matter how many of the bots under him were killed.

Starscream however, had always been a schemer. He planned and devised new tactics and when he did choose to fight, he preferred to attack from a distance. And while Starscream didn't much care on a personal level about the random bots under him, he didn't consider a battle a victory unless more bots survived than died. Every fatality was a failure in Starscreams mind.

Maybe it was this thinking that warmed the Decepticons toward him. Surviving as well as winning battles was a major plus in his corner.

Moving his chair back and forth, Starscream tried to sort through the strange feelings he had every time he thought about Earth. Why did he feel the need to return? Why did he feel the need to bring as many bots as possible? It was almost like he was being compelled.

It was all very strange. He couldn't think of a single reason scientifically why he'd been drawn to Earth…

Starscream paused as he felt the ship shift under him. He felt the Nemesis change course and speed up.

"Earth."

He thought of the bots he was bringing with him.

Soundwave and his creations, Ravage , Rumble, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw. His own wing mates, Thundercracker and Skywarp. Dirge and his wing mates Thrust and Ramjet, to name a few. All in all there were at least 30 transformers on board.

_More than enough to kill Optimus._

Starscream knew of Optimus's signal to the rest of the Autobots. However he seriously doubted more than a dozen or so were currently on Earth. Their species was spread so thin, with too few in number surviving the war. The Nemesis, he knew had the most transformers in one place together for over a millennium. They would not lose.

Optimus Prime would fall. He would retrieve the AllSpark fragment. He hoped to Primus something could be saved from it. Possibly they would destroy the human race; for certain they would kill the human Samuel James Witwicky. It all depended on what went down.

He would need to make a show out of killing Megatron's killer.

Starscream frowned. Just blasting his home or killing him in battle wouldn't be enough. The Decepticons under him would want more. In a way, killing the strongest of them was a blow to their own egos. They were afraid of Megatron, yet in the end he fell to a mere human. What did that say of their own power?

Ladiesman217 would need to be captured, uninjured if possible, and then publicly executed.

It wouldn't be easy. Optimus was undoubtedly expecting them, he might anticipate this move. The boy was probably under constant guard.

Starscream sighed again, vents blowing out hot air.

"What was that? You malfunctioning?"

Starscream straightened in his chair. "How many times have I told you NOT to teleport into my office!" 

"Four thousand two hundred and thirty-three….no thirty FOUR times." Black and purple, devilishly beautiful with a mischievous gleam in his optics.

One of two of his wing mates, Skywarp. Seekers always traveled in three's. It was how they were built and programmed. Often, the triad would be brothers built by the same creator, but not always. Starscream wasn't related at all to the teleporting mech in front of him. He also was a lot older. The war had taken his last two sets of wing mates. And as hard to handle and deal with as wingmates were, they were also very close. It was just how they were, you trusted your wingmate, in formation flying as well as in battle. You couldn't trust a regular Decepticon as far as a human could throw him, but you trusted your wingmates with everything. An oxymoron really in the Decepticon lifestyle but it was hardwired into their processors.

Due to the fact there had been no Allspark to create more Seekers, Starscream had spent several vorns alone with no wingmates. And then Thundercracker and Skywarp had lost their third, Cloudrunner. It had been a slow beginning as they learned to trust one another. Starscream had to admit it must have been harder for Skywarp and Thundercracker than himself, as his duties of second in command often left them on the battlefield alone.

However, in time they had proven to be very effective together.

"Anyway what was that?" 

"What was what?"

Starscream grabbed a data pad. Maybe if he looked busy Skywarp would leave him alone.

"You expelled air from your vents."

"Hmmm…oh, that. It's called a 'sigh'." Starscream said the English word as they had no translation for it.

Skywarp tilted his head. He might not be the smartest mech around, but he was rather sharp in his own way. "Picking stuff up from the fleshies?" He had already read Starscreams report. The news of Megatron's death and the organic creatures behind it was already spreading like wildfire through the ranks.

"Perhaps. It fits the mood." Starscream paused looking up to glare at his wingmate.

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Nope."

"Then I'll give you something. The waste tanks need to be cleaned."

Skywarp was rather vain. Usually threatening to make him do something he considered dirty work was enough to make him stop being annoying. This time it didn't work.

"Ah, come on. We haven't seen ya in like over a vorn." Starscream heard the door open. Without even looking up he knew who it was.

"We should be partying," Skywarp said opening his arms in a wide sweeping gesture. He teleported over to the new arrival, a solid blue mech, and threw his arms around the Seekers shoulders. He didn't try to dislodge Skywarp. They had been together since their creation. He was used to it. When he spoke his voice was so different than the other. Skywarp had a smooth musical voice, but Thundercracker's was deep and rough. "You did it, Starscream. You are the leader."

Starscream looked up. "It's a hollow victory."

The two wing mates shared a look. Skywarp let go of his wingmate his head and wings drooping slightly.

"Yeh…I guess it is," Skywarp finally admitted. He draped himself on the nearest chair. How that wasn't painful Starscream didn't know. Then again Skywarp had always been rather flexible for a mech.

"So it's all true. The Allspark, that human boy. We're going to Earth?"

"Yes."

"Primus."

Skywarp teleported ending up behind Starscream. He placed a hand on his wing, the normally ever-present teasing tone in his voice fading away.

"Is this a good idea? Prime isn't a bot to frag with."

He didn't say it, but Starscream knew he worried that one of them would be killed. They had all lost too many wingmates over the vorns. They were a good team, and if one of them died it would be unlikely they would ever find another.

"Yes. Now get out."

"Awww…" Skywarp pouted. "Why don't you take a break with us? I stole - er, 'borrowed' some high grade from Ramjet."

"Absolutely not."

Skywarp continued to ignore him. "We should have a party. Have some fun, after all the war is over. Er, we didn't really win, but neither did the Autobots."

"IF you don't leave right now I'll…."

Suddenly a very evil idea popped into his head. What was best about it was that it was a good idea as well. It took care of something he was worried about and got Skywarp out of his gears.

He smiled, faceplate shifting to accommodate the human gesture. His optics lit up thoroughly enjoying the hell he was about /to inflict upon his wingmates.

Skywarp stopped mid sentence. "…Whatever that is on your faceplates, I don't like it. Starscream?"

Starscream smiled wider. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable a gesture as he thought it would be; it was strange feeling but it just seemed to fit the mood he was in.

"Remember, you brought this on yourselves. Skywarp, Thundercracker…I want you to keep an eye on our reputable medic. Make sure he doesn't ditch. He seemed unsure whether or not he wanted to stay. Oh, and go save Onslaught from him while your at it."

Skywarp's mouth dropped. "You're insane!"

Thundercracker looked even more shocked. "Why am I getting punished?" he asked sending glares at both Skywarp and Starscream.

Skywarp brightened his eyes, and released a soft squeal of static noise over their personal comm. It was a plea for mercy and it struck a cord in Starscreams' wingmate programming, as no doubt Skywarp hoped it would.

"I'm not falling for that. Go."

88888

(elsewhereElsewhere on the ship)

Onslaught felt like slag.

Physically, he was fine. As were the three other combiners with him. Their last mission had been a breeze, not a scratch on them. Such a breeze, in fact, that they had allowed Brawl to leave with Starscream as backup. The Seeker hadn't needed brains, just brawn/muscle, and Brawl was perfect for that.

They were fine physically. However…mentally was another story.

Brawl was dead.

Onslaught shuddered, feeling his brothers do the same through their links. What in the _Pit_ had happened on Earth? That's what he wanted to know. Why was Brawl dead? He shouldn't be dead!

It hurt so much. He could barely stand it.

'_Who are we going to get to replace him?'_ Blast Off asked through the link. The deep space recon mech sounded exhausted. None of them had been recharging well since Brawl's death.

There was no doubt that they would have to find a replacement. They had to; there was no way he was going to keep living like this, feeling the pain of an empty link like an open wound.

Their choices were, sadly enough severely limited. Seekers were out of the question. They were always grouped off in three's, and even if there had been a broken up team, Seekers were too flashy and arrogant for his tastes.

Bonecrusher would have been an excellent choice if he hadn't died on Earth as well. A former combiner himself, he wouldn't have needed to go through the painful reformatting process to join their group.

Onslaught thought about Bonecrusher a moment. How in the living Pit did that mech survive his brother's deaths? They had only lost one and it was tearing them apart inside. He had never cared for the Constructicons, feeling they received more credit than was due for their actions, but he couldn't help but feel admiration for the strength Bonecrusher had displayed in simply surviving.

"I'm not sure yet," he replied after a moment.

They were just now arriving on the Nemesis. He disembarked their own vessel then turned to watch Blast Off transform. The mech looked as exhausted as he sounded, but then he'd been the one using energy to transport the group while he, Vortex and Swindle relaxed inside.

"You all recharge," he ordered. "I'll speak with Starscream."

Leader or not, Starscream had a lot of explaining to do. How a simple planetary scouting mission had turned into such a disaster was the first thing he needed to know. They hadn't received the entire message, but he knew that Brawl, Blackout, Bonecrusher, and Frenzy had all been lost. They had all been powerful and experienced mechs. Something major had happened.

"Onslaught?" They all paused as Thrust's voice echoed through the landing bay. "Starscream wanted me to warn you about…"

"EEEEEEEEEONSLAUGHT!"

Onslaught didn't even have time to curse as a tan colored mech came running in and took a flying leap at him.

"…never mind," Thrust chuckled dryly. Onslaught swore loudly as he was sent crashing into the deck with a giggling madmech on top of him.

"Onslaught, Onslaught, Onslaught!!!!!!"

In the distance, he heard one of his brothers give a startled scream – it sounded like Swindle. Snarling viciously, he punched the mech on top of him in the head. The nut case didn't even seem to feel it, so he did it again, and again. He didn't hold back even when he felt metal dent under his strikes.

"GLITCH! Get off me! ACK!"

Glitch wasn't the medic's original name, of course, but since the accident he rarely acknowledged his real one. Onslaught, as well as others, had learned he responded to 'Glitch' more often than anything else.

He nearly screamed as hands started to pull forcibly at his interface paneling. He slapped them away, knowing from experience that Glitch had no problem interfacing in public, or in front of his brothers. He also knew from experience that his brothers would make themselves scarce in a few moments if he didn't get Glitch off him.

Cowards. Nobody else would stand up to the medic. Everyone spoiled him, letting him do as he pleased, all in fear that he would snap again. Onslaught was the only one brave enough, or perhaps dumb enough to fight. Of course, Onslaught was also the only one Glitch attacked in this way.

Somehow or another he managed to get his feet under the medic, and with all his strength he slammed them into the bots' midsection.

Glitch grunted as he was thrown back. Not wasting a moment, Onslaught got to his feet and tried to ready himself for another attack. Too late, he yelped in pain as they went down even harder than before in a tangle of limbs. Glitch went for the intimate parts again. It always amazed him how such a screwed up mech could be so quick.

Glitch just giggled, hands ghosting again over sensitive plates. Onslaught shuddered; his cry of outrage not without a little bit of pleasure in it. While he couldn't stand the medic, he had to admit he had very talented hands.

Sometimes when he couldn't fight him off, he just gave up and let Glitch do as he pleased. Sometimes it was just easier than fighting. _Pit_. He had used the medic in the past just for the pleasure and relaxation a good interface could bring . It was a simple relationship; something he'd come to appreciate, although he sure as the Pit would never admit to it. Glitch always wanted him, no matter when or where, and he asked nothing in return. He didn't want to bond, he didn't want to spend time together or to talk. It was just a quick interface, nothing more.

Although Onslaught _did_ wish the slagger would stop tackling him whenever they met up after a long absence. He also wished the slagger knew the meaning of the word NO! He was in no mood for this now.

Onslaught, sensing a weakness in Glitch's position, suddenly rolled. The bot screamed out nonsense and static, tone insanely happy as he found himself pinned beneath the larger Onslaught. He stopped struggling so suddenly Onslaught almost overcompensated and lost his grip.

Recovering, he placed his knee on Glitch's back and twisted an arm painfully back.

Glitch giggled.

"What are you doing here?"

Last he'd heard, Glitch was still on Cybertron. The number one reason he hadn't been home in almost four vorns.

"Going to Earth going to Earth, Earth Earth Earth!"

Onslaught flickered his optics in surprise. Earth? Wasn't that where Brawl was killed? He glanced over at his brothers. None of them were laughing anymore.

"Why?" he asked cautiously, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Allspark gone, Megs dead and feeding fishes. If fishes were wishes we'd all have nets."

Onslaught felt his coolant lines freeze. That couldn't mean what he thought it did.

"Are you going to behave?" he snarled.

Glitch nodded. Onslaught let go and rose to his feet. He could trust Glitch on his word - at least, until next cycle, and then their game was back on.

Onslaught glanced down at himself and winced. His interface panel was twisted in a familiar way. Four dents indicating fingers on the seam where the medic had tried to force it open. He touched the panel and flinched; that was going to be sore for awhile.

Glitch looked far worse. The left side of his head was dented and scraped. If Onslaught cared, he might have winced at the sight of Glitch's visor. It had cracked, and a small trickle of coolant and energon was leaking out. Which meant at least one of his optics was shattered.

Onslaught suddenly felt medical scanners ghosting over him. The twitching of his brothers meant that Glitch was scanning them as well. It was weird, that such a screwed-up bot could still be a great medic. His scanners were so powerful that their electric shields didn't stand a chance against them.

"Pain, static and fluctuations. Recycle, reuse, renew." Glitch didn't seem to notice the leaking fluids as he stared at Onslaught.

Onslaught straightened his shoulders, knowing he was suddenly dealing with a different mech. Glitch had many moods; usually he was sparkling like. He was loud, giggly, and when Onslaught was involved, very hands-on. But sometimes…he changed, becoming very quiet, kind of sad, and if you made a single mistep, very violent. He was telling them, in his own way, that they needed to find another mech to replace Brawl.

"We are discussing it."

Glitch turned away, looking out the bay doors into space. "Wait. Wait for Earth. Wait for the truth and the light to show the way."

Onslaught glanced at his brothers. They shrugged, having no idea what that meant. "We'll think about it."

It wasn't like they had any good choices on the ship anyway. They could wait to reformat anyone until they got to Earth. Pit, from what he could tell the Nemesis was already heading towards that planet. They would be there within a few standard cycles.

Onslaught shook his head and stepped around the still staring mech. It was unnerving to be the focus of such intensity for long.

"I need to speak to Starscream."

_Wait for the truth and the light to show the way. What in the Pit does that mean?_

He knew Glitch well enough to know just how severely damaged he was in his processors, in his very spark. However, one thing Onslaught had learned over the vorns was that Glitch never said useless things. Everything he said meant something, even if the bots he said it to didn't understand. A lot of mechs simply ignored him, but Onslaught had learned it was better to listen. After all, Glitch was still intelligent, he just couldn't…act right anymore.

So why did he want them to wait until they got to Earth to choose a new partner? Was there someone on Earth that would be a better fit?

'_We could always take _him_ in.'_

Onslaught lashed viciously against Vortex's inner voice. _'No way in the Pit.'_

He could actually feel Vortex laugh at him. _'Why not? He's intelligent, a medic, deceptively strong -'_

'_He's insane.'_

'_And we're the poster bots of sanity? No Decepticon is normal.'_

'_NO. I'd never get any peace.'_

Swindle and Blast Off's cackles joined in with Vortex's. _'So you're not considering him because of his libido?'_

Onslaught growled. _'I don't see you risking your armor to help when I'm being forced to interface!'_

Swindle snorted through the link. '_You fight him so much everyone else thinks his attention is unwanted. But we all know you like it.' _He smirked and glanced at his brothers. "Why don't we ask him?"

Onslaught snarled again; he was very annoyed now. He didn't like his relationship, strange as it was, being talked about so casually.

Vortex would pay for that comment, later. He did NOT like it. Sometimes he used Glitch because he was a easy interface. But he did NOT like it!

"Swindle wants you to join us, Glitch," he said slowly, making sure he didn't actually extend an invitation. What the hell would he do if the medic said yes?

"Not the light. Can't follow me, just broken. Too broken to lead, too broken to follow…"

Glitch turned to him, his optic flickering wildly. It looked strange with all the fluids on his visor. The light reflected and bounced, creating different shades of red and blue.

"Will you leave me behind?"

Onslaught wasn't sure why, but he felt very uncomfortable under this strange scrutiny. It was a look that was all too familiar, although usually he was too exhausted to care. It was a look he was sometimes given after a long night of interfacing.

He felt there was more to the question than met the optic, but he didn't think it was a probe into their relationship. He knew without a doubt where they stood. Glitch, despite his scrambled processors ,processors, seemed to understand this as well.

This was a question about something else. Of what, he had no idea.

"Glitch?"

"No," Glitch said softly and much to their surprise he turned and walked calmly away. No screaming, no molesting, no mad giggling. Just a steady, calm walk until he had vanished into the corridor.

"That _was_ Glitch, right?" Blast Off asked. Onslaught frowned, too many questions and not enough answers. Maybe he would get more out of Starscream.

"You have your answer, Swindle. He said no. I wouldn't advise pursuing the issue."

The three stirred uneasily, and he sent a mental caress over their links, soothing their slight disappointment over the rejection and instructing them all again to get some recharge. He would update them after he talked to Starscream.


	9. I'm supposed to be working heh

AN: You know...I don't really have anything to say.

8888

Mikaela had been having these weird dreams lately.

Dreams that were like water in her hands, falling through her fingers as she woke up. She could never remember what they were about; just the vaguest recollection that she should be remembering _something_.

It was unnerving, and though she didn't know why, she felt uneasy every time she thought about the dreams. She knew she was having them. Could sometimes recall a fleeting image, maybe a word, but she simply could not bring up more than that.

Sitting up in bed, she stretched.

She felt sore, and it took several minutes to remember why. Getting crushed by Crush would do that. The not-man weighed a ton and a half. She probably had bruises all over her back, and no doubt her front as well.

_God, I probably look like a domestic abuse case_ she winced, rubbing her throat. It was sore too, tender and a little hot to the touch. _Weird. I totally forgot about it yesterday._

She _had_ forgotten about it. Forgotten the sheer terror inspired by being slowly choked to death. She could have been killed so easily. Could have been killed by accident.

Mikaela shook her head, then gingerly climbed out of bed. Looking into her vanity mirror she cringed. It still looked as bad as it felt.

She again rubbed at the dark purple, red and blue mark. _I really am insane._

And yet, she couldn't help but wonder about some of the stuff Crush had been saying yesterday. That he used to have brothers, although she wasn't sure how alien robots could even have brothers. That they had all been killed.

Being an only child, she couldn't really relate to his pain, but she could still feel sorry for him. Although that was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want pity. Actually reacted violently toward it.

Sighing, Mikaela walked into her bathroom and started about her morning routine, mind running laps around itself in confusion. Starting the water, she tested the temperature and then sat back on the side of the tub, waiting for it to fill.

So much was going on, it made her head hurt. Her feelings toward Crush had been changing as well. That was not a good thing. She couldn't afford to feel anything for that Decepticon.

_I blame that stupid projector thing. I wouldn't have looked twice at him if it wasn't for that damned machine._

Climbing into the tub, she sighed as the hot water began soaking into her skin, soothing the bruises she had acquired the day before. She pulled her hair up and leaned back. She loved her tub, nice and big. It was one of the reasons she decided to buy this house; it had a wonderful master bathroom. The kind a girl could fall in love with.

_I need to get control over my hormones. Especially if Crush can smell me. Oh god, that was embarrassing._

She wet a wash rag and laid it over her forehead.

_I don't like him that way. I can't like him that way. He's not human and I have no idea what he's going to do after he's fixed. _

It was better not to get attached. He might have mentioned changing to Mrs. Jenkins, but he hadn't said anything concrete.

Hell, what was she thinking? He was an alien. Even if she did feel for him - which she did not - Bonecrusher had already let his thoughts about the human race and herself in particular be very well known.

He didn't like humans. Thought they were weak little fleshlings.

Even if she _did_ want to pursue these insane feelings, she doubted he would be interested.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander.

She had a lot to think about besides _him_, after all.

There was Sam. He was supposed to come visit before leaving for boot camp, but she hadn't heard anything from him lately. That was unusual for Sam, but she wasn't worried. He had a lot on his plate as well.

_But how am I going to hide Crush? Note to self, ask him how to hide his real body from Bumblebee. Sam I can keep away, but Bee might have scanners or something. _

Reaching up with her foot, she turned the knob of her tub to shut the water off.

_I need to do this more often_ she thought with a sigh. Even with all the shit that had been going on, this felt good. _Need to buy bath salts and stuff. It's a sin to let this nice tub go to waste…_

"Hey."

The scream that ripped through the tiny little house could have woken the dead.

Bonecrusher, not really expecting such a greeting, nearly had pump failure in surprise. The scream didn't do a damn thing to help the pounding in his head either.

"GET OUT!" Mikaela screamed trying to cover herself, although it really was futile. She was butt ass naked in the tub.

When Bonecrusher just gave her a confused look, she decided violence was in order and started to throw things. First her shampoo, followed by a bar of soap, then a back scrubber.

Bonecrusher uncovered his ears from the screeching and tried to avoid the projectiles.

"What is your problem!?" Getting fed up with dodging, he lunged and grabbed an arm before her conditioner became a weapon.

Mikaela screamed again, her face turning bright red as she was yanked roughly halfway out of the water. "Crush, get out! I'm naked!"

Completely confused, he looked down getting another shriek from the woman he was currently disarming. "So?"

Mikaela gaped in horror. "Let me go and _get out_!"

She tried to cover her breasts but it was kind of hard to do with one hand. She couldn't even turn away. The wrist he had captured throbbed and her arm hurt from being suddenly yanked upwards. Bonecrusher really didn't know how to be gentle.

After another moment of staring, Bonecrusher snorted, letting go of her wrist suddenly. Mikaela almost fell but managed to keep her balance. Moving more quickly than she ever had before, even when her life had been in danger, she grabbed a towel and covered herself, face still a bright red as she tried to regain the calm that had been shattered.

_He doesn't get it _she told herself firmly. _He doesn't understand why I yelled. Calm down Mikaela._

"What…do…you…want?" she grit out, trying not to snarl. It didn't work. Hell, if this had been an anime fire would have been shooting up around her.

Bonecrusher closed his eye, and rubbed the side of his head. Oh boy did it hurt. "I got my diagnostics back last night. We got work to do."

Mikaela blinked, surprised. He had been bitching for weeks about how he didn't know a lot about what was wrong with himself because his diagnostics were screwed up. He could perform minor low level scans, but that was it. It was hard going, trying to fix something at high tech as the Decepticon without more help. Bonecrusher hadn't really known what needed to be fixed, so she just kind of fixed whatever, not knowing what was important.

Sure, she could fix almost anything, as she was finding out, but that didn't mean she knew what the parts were or what they did. She had no idea what was more important and should be fixed first.

"Alright, let me get dressed."

Holding the towel tighter to her body she shooed him away. He gave her a last glance up and down before stepping out the door, which made her blush. It had a healthy bit of confusion in the look so she knew he wasn't looking 'at' her. He just seemed confused as to why she was so upset.

A few minutes later Mikaela stepped out of her bedroom. Crush was leaning against a nearby wall.

"You screw in your cranial bolts yet?"

She blinked, then rolled her eyes as she suddenly realized he had pretty much asked her if she had found her marbles.

"Crush, news flash on humans. They don't like other people they aren't involved with to see them naked. It's a big no-no."

"We're involved," he commented, bemused.

"No we're not!" Mikaela managed to squeak out, her face again turning red.

"Yes, we are. You are fixing me. We interact with each other, speak with each other. Isn't that involved?"

"NO. Involved as in _intimately_ involved."

Bonecrusher frowned, opened his mouth to say something before a far away look crept in his eye. When he focused on her again, he simply shrugged and turned around.

"Let's get to work. I'm tired of lying around."

Mikaela sighed and decided to just focus on hoping her little speech had made an impression, rather than on Crush's stranger reaction. She didn't even have a lock on her bathroom door, so she couldn't lock him out if she'd wanted to Not that would stop him if he really wanted into her bathroom. She had no doubt that Bonecrusher could muscle his way past a thin barrier of wood.

"Alright, let's get to work."

Twenty minutes later they were standing together on his chest. Mikaela was wearing her normal work overall and t-shirt. Both were still clean as she hadn't gotten started yet.

"Alright, so what's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong," Bonecrusher replied softly as he looked at himself. Mikaela didn't say anything. This had to be strange to him. Like a really freaky out of body experience. She didn't think she could have handled standing next to and looking at her own mutilated body.

"First – my primary coolant pump has been fractured. I still have several wire clusters that are fried and need to be replaced."

He paused once again focusing on something Mikaela couldn't see. "The most pressing issue is that there is a short in my auxiliary power cells. That is what is causing my pain and the smoke. It's frying circuits every time I try to move."

His face darkened at that. That was not a happy look. She wondered how serious this was. Bonecrusher seemed usually subdued as he looked at himself.

"So what? Do I just take out the cells if they're just auxiliary?"

Crush frowned. "It's a risk. If something happens and I run out of power…"

He paused, a look that Mikaela came to recognize as a 'how do I explain this to a fleshling' expression ghosted across his face. "We have something called stasis lock. If we are severely injured, or run out of power, it kicks in and immobilizes all but the most critical systems. It's a way to keep our sparks online until a medic comes. Without those power cells, my systems would completely shut down…I would die."

Mikaela crossed her arms.

"But you'll live if we take them out now, right?"

"Yes, they are only needed if something forces me into stasis."

_Bonecrusher doesnt look too good_ Mikaela thought after a few moments studying him. She wondered if it was just the booze, or the fact he finally knew just how bad off he was.

He had told her before that without diagnostics, he was pretty much blind to what could be wrong inside. He could feel pain, but he couldn't tell what was causing it or how to stop it.

"I think I'd rather not know…" he mumbled softly, almost like he was reading her mind.

Ok, now _that_ was a scary thought. Still, she didn't let it bother her. It just made sense to her they would think similarly in this situation. Mikaela shook her head and walked past, slapping him on the arm, right under his Decepticon tattoo.

"No bitching. Let's do this." She dropped down into the hole.

He rubbed his arm; she'd hit him hard enough to leave a red mark, and he muttered darkly in Cybertronian. She might not know what he was saying, but she could guess it wasn't nice. One could recognize cursing no matter what language.

"Leave the cells for last." He dropped down beside her. Mikaela stiffened. The area was large, after all Bonecrusher was a large mech. Still, the area seemed suddenly very cramped with Crush down here with her.

"Why?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

Crush didn't seem to notice her discomfort as he made himself comfortable sitting on that large sphere thing he'd told her not to touch before.

"So I have a chance to go into stasis if you slag this up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Alright, what do you want me to work on?"

Crush pointed at a large panel that looked like it could be opened from the outside. It was crushed and twisted, and inside, she could just make out several wires and circuits. Looked like there was a lot of stuff in that small (for Bonecrusher) panel.

She paused a moment, trying to figure out how the panel opened. It was twisted so badly she might have to use a crow bar.

It moved on its own suddenly, startling her half to death. With a horrible squeal of metal, the panel slowly started moving to the side. She could feel Bonecrusher tensing under her.

"Almost got it." The actual mech was the one who said that. She could feel the vibrations of his metallic voice through his body.

The panel slide open, revealing the circuits. It was dirty and several wires needed to be spliced and resoldered.

She reached forward, touching some of the worst wires to start untangling them. It was a mess.

"So how are you feeling?" she asked as she took out her clippers and started to snip.

The mech groaned in pain, but managed to not cry out. Both of them were getting better at this; she was getting faster, and he was getting used to the pain.

"Like slag. My processors hurt, the light is too bright and I want to 'barf' again."

Mikaela bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, it's called a hangover. It's what happens when you get plastered like you did last night."

Mikaela frowned as she looked deeper into the paneling. Looking for a loose wire she'd seen earlier. It had to be there somewhere. Standing on her tippy toes, she finally spotted it. A small red wire, after it had been severed it had fallen into a different part of Bonecrusher.

_I bet I can reach that. Don't want to open him up more than necessary. All this stuff further down is well protected. Wonder what its for? _

It wasn't part of any major system that she could see. With a mental shrug, she reached in to get the last wire.

What she hadn't expected was for Bonecrusher to literally jerk under her fingers and cry out. His body actually moved, something that all the pain she had caused him thus far had yet to do.

"SORRY!" she shouted, scared half to death that she might kill him.

_But I didn't do anything. I just reached in!_

She turned wide and apologetic eyes towards the pretender shell. She didn't know what Crush might do now that he could move a body. He'd already proven he could hurt her. He might lash out at her for hurting him like that.

Crush was still sitting on the sphere thing, although now he was slightly hunched over. Even from here she could see him breathing hard.

_Does he need to breath or is it something programmed to make his shell look natural?_ she wondered as she approached him slowly. "Crush, You ok?"

She could feel tiny tremors in the metal around her, Bonecrusher was shaking.

"Crush!" she said a bit more forcibly.

"I'm alright." His voice was strangely husky. He took in a deep breath and looked up.

Was it her imagination or was Crush's eye a brighter red now?

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "What were you doing?"

"Uh…" It took a moment to remember what she had been doing. She had been so worried.

It amazed her sometimes. She did worry about him. She was honestly concerned over his well being. Here he was, a killer, a enemy, and she didn't care. She hadn't cared since he'd first woken up, so confused and in such pain.

"A wire from the panel fell down into another section. I was trying to grab it."

Crush blinked at her. "Did you get it?"

"No, I dropped it again when you cried out. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't pain. You just surprised me." Crush sat up and motioned for her to continue.

She gave him a distrustful look. One didn't cry out and shake all over like that for nothing. Still, she did need to get that wire.

"I'll be quick," she promised as she went over to the paneling again. Standing on her toes, Mikaela groaned. The damned thing had fallen further down. It would be a bitch to get now.

"Bear with me here…" she said right before she reached down again.

Bonecrusher made a deep baritone groan, like he wanted to cry out but cut it off. Mikaela flinched but didn't stop. She tried to be gentle, but there were so many different wires and everything packed so closely together.

Wiggling her fingers, she could feel the severed end of the wire. "Almost got it."

Bonecrusher was trembling again. Somewhere in his body, a fan kicked on closely followed by a strange hum.

"Got it!" Mikaela jerked her hand out of the paneling, wire in hand.

"G..g..ood, Crush stuttered behind her. She smiled and went back to work. Making sure no more wires or anything fell again.

Bonecrusher opened his vents, taking in air to try and cool his systems.

That…had been unexpected.

He shuddered, his chest aching painfully from the small movement. Unexpected, but not unpleasant.

_So the question is…_he thought to himself, _Am I lucky or __**not**__ at having the human find my interface wiring?_

He wasn't sure. On one hand, all his sensors had activated and were buzzing in interest. Felt damn good. Amazing even, he couldn't remember the last time his systems had responded so quickly. Mind still in a fuzzy happy place, he wondered if it was because of the contrast of pleasure and pain. He'd been hurting so much for so long that anything other than pain was a welcome relief.

On the other hand though, Mikaela unfortunately was a human. Wasn't like she could interface with him even if he'd been inclined to. So once his sensors calmed down, he'd probably be frustrated as the Pit since he hadn't actually reached overload.

He offlined his optic, remembering the strange feeling of supple, warm hands. It had been so long since someone had touched him like that. Bonecrusher frowned to himself. Not that Mikaela knew what she was doing; she'd thought he was in pain. Far from it. Her accidental touch had been circuit-scrambling exotic.

Her fingers were so soft and warm. Flesh and bone rather than metal. Small and slim, able to fit in places no else could…

Disturbed, he focused on his pretender shell. Watching the small female. Studying the way her body curved. It surprised him how like a femme these human females were. All curves and grace.

He wished she would make that pheromone smell again. He almost ached to smell her. To feel her skin again…

_Whoa._

Bonecrusher's processors screeched to a grinding halt as his sensors finally calmed enough for him to think straight. He considered his thoughts. What they could possibly mean? Should he be worried for his sanity? Enjoying an accidental groping was one thing. But actively wanting to do more, that was something else.

He'd been insane before. He really didn't want to go down that road again.

He tried to remember the last time he'd interfaced with someone. It had been before his brothers were killed. He remembered that. The mech had been mostly black with green highlights…Bonecrusher couldn't recall his name.

Was that because it had been so long? Was he seriously, honestly considering an interface with a human? Was that even possible?

He continued to study Mikaela. He thought back to two instances. When he touched the back of her neck, and when he had fallen on her.

Both times that wonderful pheromone smell had started. So, obviously, it must be connected to touching, or maybe just being close. At the time, he had dismissed the slight feelings that could have beeen interpreted as organic desire as a side effect of the humanoid shell.

His spark pulsed.

He'd forgotten about that, she had actually touched his spark casing a few days ago and it had responded. Responded as quickly as he had just now when she groped him.

Bonecrusher tried to shift uncomfortably, although he ended up wincing in pain. It was hard to deny desire when his spark had practically leapt out of its casing when she had leaned up against it.

Mikaela hadn't even known what she was doing. Frag it, she hadn't been doing _anything_. She hadn't caressed it or anything like that. She merely leaned up against the armored plating.

Did he want to be - what did Mikaela call it…involved? Did he want her? HER, a human, flesh instead of metal, with soft little hands and nice pheromones?

Truthfully, he already knew the answer to that. He just…didn't want to accept it.

Bonecrusher offlined his optic, and closed his shell's eye as well. He fought inside himself with programming and desires. He knew what he wanted, and normally he wasn't the kind of mech who would try and delude himself. But by the Pit, he didn't want to be insane again.

He shuddered as Mikaela accidentally AGAIN touched something sensitive.

OK. So he _was_ insane again.

Great.

Just great.

….

….

Now what?

8888

Miles wasn't exactly what you would call a normal, down-to-earth kind of guy.

He was goofy, kind of clumsy, had no athletic talent whatsoever AND most people called him weird. Heck, even his own dad called him a weirdo on a daily basis.

He liked to climb trees, had a pet toad named Todd and liked old-school black and white horror films.

He didn't mind weird. Weird was better than normal any day. And being the poster boy of weird let him notice things other people didn't.

When his best bud Sam had first gotten his car, the radio had been strange. Next was how smooth a ride the car had been. It ran very well, better than any old beater should.

Miles should know - he had one in his garage that he and his dad were trying to work on. Being mechanically handicapped, though, he usually just watched his old man work as they quizzed each other on TV trivia.

Next thing he knew, Sam and his parents - AND Mikaela - all disappeared. That was weird, no matter what anyone tried to tell him.

Almost a week later, after the terrorist attack in Mission City, Sam had returned with Mikaela under his arm and a brand new, kick-ass ride that just happened to be the same god-awful claw-your-own-eyes-out yellow as the beater had been.

Miles considered himself a guru on weird and THAT had been getting beyond weird into the truly bizarre.

Still, he didn't ask questions. Sam was his best bud. He trusted Sam to tell him things, as well as to know when _not_ to tell him things.

Miles understood that despite the fact they were best friends, had been best friends forever, there were just some things that needed to be kept secret. Secrets were important. Whether they were to spare someone's feelings or something else.

He was a little frustrated, but in the end he trusted Sam.

So Miles didn't ask questions. He just stood by when Sam had gotten hell from Trent for stealing his girl. And later, he'd tried to console his bro when Mikaela mysteriously quit school, dumped Sam and taken off.

Now however…weird had taken on a whole new meaning.

Sam was gone.

Disappeared, vamoosed, just plain and simple _gone._ Without a word, a thought, or…a goodbye.

No one else really seemed to care, not the teachers, not the principle, and certainly none of the other students. Sam hadn't been very popular, even after bagging a girl like Mikaela.

Miles had gone to Sam's parents and demanded to know what was going on. They had just smiled at him and told him Sam had left for boot camp.

Boot camp?

BOOT CAMP?

Little wussy Sam Witwicky, going to boot? When the _hell_ did Sam decide that? And why?

Miles knew Sam. The military had never even been discussed, in all their years growing up. The two of them just weren't the types.

_Or was he?_

Miles sat on the curb, waiting on the bus. Since Sam's disappearance, there was no burn-your-retinas yellow car to take him to school. No teasing Sam about his new girl, although that had stopped after Mikaela left. No hitting on said girl just to watch Sam's face turn red in anger and embarrassment.

_Or was he?_

Miles thought back. Ever since that first disappearance, Sam had changed.

And it was more than just the car and the impossibly hot girlfriend.

Miles had noticed it right away, though he'd tried to ignore it.Thinking about it would make the questions all that much harder not to ask.

His bro's eyes had been the biggest change. They were still brown and all but…the way Sam looked at him - the way he looked at _everything_ had changed.

When Trent had approached him, Sam didn't look away. He had simply looked up and stared straight into Trent's eyes. Sam had never done that before, even when making fun of the jock.

There was steel behind his gaze now. And sometimes, when Sam thought no one was looking, his eyes told a story. Miles didn't understand, but he could see the ghosts of hell in his friend's eyes. Like he'd seen things - horrible things - and in the end, survived them.

Miles' granddaddy had been like that, but he'd been in World War II, and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, Miles couldn't help but notice an eerie similarity between them.

So maybe, in the end, it did make sense that Sam was going into the military.

Okay. So Sam had gone off to boot camp without telling him or even saying goodbye. That hurt. It _really_ hurt. He wanted to understand, but was having a hard time. Why couldn't Sam have said goodbye at least?

A throaty roar caused Miles to jerk fully awake. He'd been half dozing waiting on the curb for the bus.

"Good god…" he said as he watched the most expensive car he'd ever seen in his life whip by. What the hell was a car like _that_ doing in this neighborhood?

Miles frowned. And more importantly, why was it almost the same punch–you-in-the-face yellow?

_Well, not so much yellow…this one has more gold in it.._

The windows were too dark to see who was driving. But whomever it was, they were damned good; they whipped the vehicle around a corner like a formula one driver.

"Hey." Miles jerked again. He'd been paying so much attention to the yellow car he hadn't even noticed another pulling up to the curb.

_It's official now. Weird has a whole new meaning _he thought as he looked at an identical model, if differently colored car. Tight lines, smooth curves, literally screaming _money_ to the young man. He'd never seen a car like it. He wasn't even sure what it what make it was. It was sporty and low slung, though.

Miles stood up and walked over to the car. He could see his reflection in the pristine candy-apple red paint.

He approached cautiously, standing way out of reach if someone decided to try and pull him into said car. Although that would probably be difficult. The sport car didn't look like it would be good to for trying to kidnap somebody in, there wasn't enough room, hell didn't even look like it had a back seat. The car was all engine, the hood seemed to stretch forever.

"If you're going to try and sell me drugs, no thank you," he said, trying to make his voice stern. Some reason though…he didn't think this was a drug dealer.

The window was rolled down a crack. Just enough so that the driver could speak to him, but not enough for Miles to make anything out past the darkened glass.

"No no no. Don't wanna sell ya anything, kid," the driver snickered. He sounded young, maybe just a bit older than Miles was. The voice had a thick accent as well; it sounded Italian to him. "Don't look like the type to have the money even if I was." The driver outright laughed, seemingly amused by his own joke.

"Ya…uh whatever. What do you want?"

"Lookin' for someone. Sam Witwicky."

Miles stiffened.

"Don't know him," he lied after a moment. Warning bells screamed in his head. He turned to go back and wait for the bus. The driver however spoke up.

"Really? That's strange, thought you two were friends?"

Miles tried not to sound nervous. "What gave you that idea?"

The car rolled forward, following Miles. He shuddered and couldn't help but feel like he was being stalked. "No reason."

The window rolled up and the car pulled smoothly away from the curb just as the bus came into view. He watched nervously as the car disappeared around the same corner as the first.

He barely heard the bus driver yelling at him to get on the bus. Grabbing his bags, he boarded, wondering what the hell _that_ had been about.

Sam wasn't the kind of guy people with cars like that asked about.

_Or at least, he didn't used to be. _

So what was going on? Was the whole Army thing a lie? Was Sam like, in protective services or something? Hell, Sam had been kind of beaten up after coming back to school. Maybe the mafia or something was after him.

Miles hadn't even seen the face of the driver, but that definitely hadn't been an American accent.

"Yo twerp!" A buddy of Trent's, although not close enough to warrant a ride to school slapped him hard on the shoulder. "What the guy with the kick-ass ride want?"

Miles blinked. He opened his mouth and then shut it, giving his answer a thought. This guy didn't give a damn about Sam. All he was thinking about was money and cars and girls. What did he care if Sam was in danger?

"Nothing, he was just lost. He was asking how to get to the Interstate," Miles muttered as he turned away.

Nothing.

This was nothing. He shouldn't even worry about it. Sam was no doubt safe wherever he was...

The rest of the day went by in a fog. Miles just couldn't get the candy apple red car and that accented voice out of his mind. He was worried. No matter how often he told himself not to be. Just _something_ about that car, and not just its fanciness, was really setting off his weird-o-meter.

People at school were talking about the cars. Lamborghinis. Cars easily worth more than his parents house, two of them, one yellow, the other red.

_Candy apple red _Miles thought as he listened to some girls giggle about it. Or rather about the men that must be driving the cars. He didn't know why, but the word _red_ just didn't do the color justice. He'd never seen anything like it. For some reason, he bet the yellow one had a paint job just as beautiful. He hadn't been able to tell from the single glimpse he'd caught of it.

He sighed, not listening to the science teacher as she droned on about pond scum or something like that.

He didn't know why, but today felt lonelier than usual. The people around him talking just bothered him. He didn't want to hear any more about cool cars, or hot girls.

He just…

He just wanted things to be normal again.

Was that weird? A boy that usually loved the bizarre suddenly wanting normal.

He wasn't sure. What he did know was, he was sick of being worried about Sam. He was sick of wondering what had happened and where his friend might be. He was sick of missing Sam.

And Mikaela too, strangely enough. He'd only gotten to know her during the month or so before she left, but she just seemed to fit in so well. There had been no awkwardness, and Miles had never felt like a third wheel. She wasn't just Sam's girl. She had become their friend.

And now they were both gone. They had both left without a word and without explanations.

He looked out the window, wishing the bell would ring already. It was a nice day out, still a bit chilly, as spring was still around the corner. Spring break would be starting soon.

Miles sighed. Before Sam's first disappearance, they had planned to take a road trip in

Sam's new car. They weren't sure where, probably the beach, maybe Vegas. It had been fun planning the trip, just him and Sam, two bros out looking for adventure. He'd been excited, then. Now, the thought just depressed him more.

It was right in the middle of another sigh when he became aware of it.

He hadn't even noticed it at first, being too focused on his sorrows, self pity and boredom.

_Yellow. Golden yellow. _

The car was parked in the school lot, facing where he was sitting. The sun was beating down, making its paint sparkle and shine. Miles studied the car wondering if anyone was in it. He glanced around; no one else seemed to have noticed it, even though it stuck out like a sore thumb among the rusty and beat up cars most of the students drove.

He stared at the car, trying to think of a name for the color.

_Sun gold yellow_ he finally decided. There even seemed to be metal chips in the clear coat, creating a sparkling effect. He had been right, the sun-gold yellow paint was just as beautiful as the candy apple red had been.

Were they still looking for Sam?

Miles shifted uncomfortably. It was almost like he could feel eyes on him, like the car itself was staring at him. He wondered if anyone was in it. He couldn't tell; the windshield, while not darkened, had a reflective surface making it impossible to see inside.

He wished Sam's phone still worked. He really wanted to call him and warn him.

The bell rang, startling Miles. Glancing out again he was surprised to see the car was gone.

Time to go home.

He suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted to leave school. It was safe here.

_Surely…I'll be fine_ he told himself. He would be on the bus most of the way. And he didn't live very far from where the bus let him off. He would be fine.

He was just being paranoid.

The bus ride was normal, if you didn't count how jumpy Miles had become. Every time a red or yellow car passed the bus he nearly had a heart attack. He gripped the back of the seat in front of him, wondering why he felt so nervous.

_There is something weird about those cars. Why was Candy apple red asking about Sam? Why was Sun gold yellow at the school?_

Miles disembarked at his normal place, and standing still, he watched as the bus drove away. The slight feeling of unease intensified as his safety net faded into the distance.

Shouldering his backpack, he started walking home. It was only a few blocks. He would be fine. He was being paranoid, letting his imagination run wild.

_Ya, just letting my imagination go wild. Just like in third grade when I thought our gym teacher was a werewolf. _

He'd been so into the theory, he'd snuck out one night to go spy on his teacher-slash-neighbor. He'd recieved the grounding of his life when he'd been dragged home by the scruff of his shirt by the cops. Oh boy, his mother had _not_ been happy…

_You can just imagine what Officer Charles would say to this. Two insanely expensive cars are stalking me._

Miles laughed, amused at the thought, and suddenly frowned as something tickled his memory.

_Didn't Sam say something about his car stalking him?_

He remembered now. Right before Sam had disappeared, before Mission City, he had called, panicked and saying something about Satan's Camaro…

"Yo kid."

"AHH!" Miles screamed, dropping his bag. Whirling around he tried to force his heart back into his chest. He knew that voice, that ACCENT.

"YOU!" he said nervously pointing at the red car as he slowly started to back away. Miles was still a few blocks from home and currently he was standing in front of a few mom and pop stores. The streets were deserted; this section of town was old and rundown, shoppers usually going with convenience of the larger shopping malls and stuff.

The car turned, actually coming up onto the sidewalk as the driver pointed its front grill at Miles.

Backing up, he bumped against the brick wall of a building. Heglanced over for a way out only to see sun gold yellow sliding out from an alleyway to his left, blocking his escape. The sound of tires crunching the gravel actually made him cringe.

_Breath, oh god Miles. This is…this is nuts. This isn't your imagination. What the hell is going on?!_

"Where is Sam Witwicky, Ladiesman217?" Candy apple red demanded. There was none of the pleasantness from before.

"I don't kno…"

He never got to finish his sentence as sun gold yellow revved his engine loudly at the obvious lie.

"There are no less than four pictures in Tranquility High School's yearbook with you two together. Don't lie to us."

Candy apple red revved its engine as well, jumping slightly forward and giving Miles another heart attack. Miles cursed to himself. Crap, what could he say about that? He knew exactly what pictures Red was talking about. There was no way to lie about _that_.

This couldn't be happening. He was too young to die! As cliché as thatwas, it was true!

He was still a virgin for crying out loud! He didn't wanna die a virgin!

"Hey - what the hell! Get off the sidewalk, you ingrate!"

Miles nearly cried in relief at seeing an old store clerk sticking out her head past her storefront. Miles could almost feel the cars' attentions being diverted. "Just 'cause you got fancy smancy wheels don't mean you own the road!"

Miles bolted.

The store clerk cursed loudly as twin sets of tires spun out, kicking up smoke and dust and the stink of burnt rubber.

Miles didn't look behind him.

"HEY!" he heard the driver yell at him. Miles didn't stop, and knowing he was screwed if he stayed near the roads, he cut through an alley. Some of the streets back behind the stores were narrow and riddled with debris. Hopefully Red and Yellow wouldn't be able to follow him.

Miles reached into his pocket grabbing his cell phone. Panicked, he dialed Sam's number on instinct. He prayed that this time the ass would finally pick up -

'You've reached Sam's phone…blah blah blah.'

"Son of a BITCH!" Miles screamed as he cut a sharp corner in between two buildings. He paused, having no idea where he was already. He had absolutely no sense of direction. He looked left and right, uncertain of where to go. He didn't know this area very well.

He ran right, and just before he crossed the intersection of another alleyway, Red cut in front of him with a squeal of tires. He bounced off the car's hood painfully and fell to the ground.

Even in his confusion, a distracted corner of his mind took note that his violent crash hadn't so much as scratched the perfect paint.

Getting back up, he turned around and fled back the way he came.

_Calm down Miles. Need to get somewhere safe…where where __**where**_

He still had the phone in his hand. He dialed, this time Sam's parents. Yes, he could call the police, but the police weren't who Red was asking questions about. He needed to warn Sam's parents, hopefully they could get ahold of Sam.

"Hello, Witwicky residence – "

"MRS. WITWICKY!" Miles screamed out in pure terror as once again he got cut off by the red car. It was weird - before the engine had been a loud roar, but now it was deathly silent. Like the driver could put a silencer on it or something. Miles wondered how the guy was even finding his way down these back streets. Must be one hell of a GPS system.

He cut to the left, heading for some streets he KNEW would be to narrow for candy apple red to follow.

"Miles?" she asked, concerned.

He tried to find enough breath to run and warn Judy. "Oh my god oh my freakin god!"

"Miles, what's wrong?"

"There after Sam! Just like he said!" he screamed out.

"What? Miles, calm down!"

"You gotta warn Sam! Satan Upgraded!…and he's got an Italian accent!!"

"Miles, please - just tell me - "

Miles never heard what Mrs. Witwicky said after that. Something hit him. Hit him bone-jarringly hard in the side, so hard he was fleetingly surprised he wasn't killed on impact. He hadn't even seen it coming, hadn't heard a thing. Just felt pain, intense pain like he'd never known before.

He screamed, although he didn't really remember opening his mouth to scream. Just vaguely hearing a voice that sounded like his own.

As he hit the ground, his head bounced off the pavement lwith a sharp crack. The world spun, and he his vision started to go back. Moaning in pain, he rolled over onto his back, catching a dazed glimpse of yellow.

_Oh...Sun Gold Yellow. Jesus, forgot about him._

The phone was still on, although it lay useless, out of his reach. He could still hear Mrs. Witwicky screaming into it.

It was then he heard a noise that made no sense to him. A strange, shifting, grinding noise.

"Primus, did you have to hit it so hard?"

He knew that voice. Stupid accent. Miles decided he really hated people with accents now.

Miles groaned again unable to make his body move any more. It hurt so much. Was he dying? This really sucked.

A second voice answered, although Miles couldn't understand him. Sun gold yellow didn't speak English apparently. He didn't understand the words, but the tone was harsh and uncaring.

The first one spoke again, fainter this time. "Are they supposed to leak red stuff like that?"

The phone line suddenly went dead, he could hear the rapid beeping of the dial tone from where he was sprawled on the pavement. Unable to stay conscious any longer, Miles slipped into black oblivion, only dimly aware of the strange red and yellow shapes hovering over him.


	10. same chapter hopefully with fixed format

AN: I love my beta.

Ok then...do I have anything to say this chapter? (is thinking) Ah yes, I HATE dump trucks. One almost killed me in PA a few days ago. I was one a very narrow road when the Dumbass decided that center lines were just a suggestion. The road was so narrow all my concentration was on staying out of the ditch. There was no where for me to go! At the last moment though he swerved. But honestly there for a moment I thought that this was it. Not sure which one of us would have won. I think I had him on weight class, I was hauling 45 thousand pounds of canned food, but damn Dump trucks are rather study looking. I know one thing though, a head on would no have been pretty. My gutts would have probably been splattered all over the road and people would get pissed having to wait in the resulting traffic jam as DOT cleaned me up.

I hate dump trucks.

So enjoy this chapter and review. You almost didn't get it.

AN2: Also if I have time tonight I'm going to update my livejournal thingy. I'll be posting comments on your reviews. Good job last chapter. Those were some of the best reviews yet. I loved reading them. Really great reviews make me write fast.

0000000000000

The sound of screaming sparklings.

Sparks screaming.

Souls screaming.

Words in the dark. A mech, trying to speak to him; one that looked familiar.

He tried to listen, tried to hear what he was saying. It was important. He knew that.

But it was like…he was underwater. The words were muted, muddled, and simply to far away. He couldn't understand.

What did the mech want? What was he trying to say?

What was _he_ supposed to do?

Sam was dreaming. He knew that; knew it the instant he saw Megatron. The moment he heard those horrible words 'Allspark. Mine'. Still, despite knowing it was a dream, it didn't make things seem any less real. He could feel the ground shaking, smell the burnt ozone from weapons. He could hear people and bots alike, screaming.

The Allspark was in his hands. It was glowing, pulsing with power as he lifted it up.

The voice - _so familiar_ - was yelling at him. Telling him what he had to do, but he couldn't hear anything clearly. All he could hear was the Allspark as it exploded into Megatron's chest.

Suddenly, in the chaos of destruction, a familiar voice whispered. It was closer than the others, right up against his ear.

"_Truth."_

Sam woke up with a jerk, arms failing wildly in panic. His left hand hit something, and he yelped in pain as the dull thunk of flesh hitting metal echoed through the air.

"_Son_ of a…" he cursed, cradling his hand.

"Sam? I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"I, uh - what?"

Sam was breathing heavily, covered in a fine film of sweat and dirt. Blinking, he looked down at himself. When did he lie down? More importantly - why was he sitting in the dirt?

His hand was still smarting as he looked up to stare at Bee's face, which was surprisingly close by. Wasn't hard to figure out what he'd hit.

_Oh hell. I just bitch slapped Bee._

"You passed out again," Bee said softly, a hand reaching down to help him sit up. That stopped any apologies dead on Sam's tongue. Oh crap, he'd passed out again? What was it, like the 5th time now?

"Oh?" Sam shook his head. He could still hear the mech's voice. He had actually heard a word this time. It was just one, but that was more than usual.

"Truth..." he whispered to himself. What did that mean? He had no idea. It didn't make any sense to him.

"Your hallucinations are getting worse?" It was more a statement than question.

"They aren't hallucinations," Sam muttered in annoyance as he stood up. He bent over, still feeling a little dizzy, and tried to cover this fact up by pretending to be dusting his pants off.

A sore point now between Sam and the rest of the Autobots. Just something…told Sam he wasn't hallucinating. He tried to tell them that, but they didn't listen. Couldn't understand this strange feeling he had that was as strong as any real knowledge. They weren't hallucinations; he knew that for a fact.

And someday, he might be able to prove it…

He rubbed his forehead.

_Truth._

One word didn't tell him a damn thing. He still didn't understand. The Autobots still thought he was going nuts. And if he stayed under house arrest much longer, he might really go insane. He couldn't stand this. He was supposed to be _doing_ things, learning things. Being trained, so he wouldn't be such a burden when things got bad. He felt like he was running in circles.

Useless and in the way.

He suddenly jerked to attention as memory came back. "Grimlock? Swoop?"

He was supposed to be watching them because Wheeljack and Ratchet were…'busy'.

He hadn't known what to think when, a few hours ago, Ratchet suddenly appeared out of nowhere and literally dragged Wheeljack off into the desert. They (including Bee) had all been trying to get Swoop out of some trees.

Innocently, he'd asked what was going on. Bee had just laughed and told him _exactly_ what Ratchet had planned for the scientist.

_Dammit, I really didn't need to know that._

He really didn't need to know that Giant Alien Robots had a version of sex, and that Ratchet was horny after being apart from his bonded for so long.

Wheeljack, for all his protests, hadn't exactly been putting up much of a fight, either.

Sam shuddered, still kind of freaked out. Not because they were two mechs - he understood the 'no gender' lecture he had gotten, and he had nothing against human gays. He just…well, it was slagging _scary_ to think of Ratchet like that.

"They're over there." Bee pointed to Sam's left near some trees.

Sam sighed in relief. Grimlock looked like he was playing with his latest rat. The little white creature had lasted almost all day, and Sam was kind of hoping for the best. He liked the little thing; it was surprisingly cute and friendly. Swoop was once again in the trees, only this time it looked like he was trying to catch some birds.

Both sparklings were so curious about everything. They wanted to see and feel everything around them. Grimlock was still having trouble being gentle, but Swoop was the exact opposite. He had no trouble with tiny organics. Wheeljack seemed hopeful that the little one might possibly become a medic.

Suddenly, Bee went very still. Even his systems went quiet. Bee's eyes flickered in a familiar way that meant he was talking to the other Autobots, and then his expression darkened, becoming a mixture of worry and anger.

Sam stiffened. Something wasn't right.

"What?" he asked once Bee focused back on him, but the mech just stood up and walked over to the trees. Without a word he plucked Swoop from his perch, and then reached down to grab Grimlock. Both sparklings made noises of protest, but didn't struggle against the larger bot.

"What?" Sam asked again as Bee motioned for them to go back to the base.

"Optimus commed in. Something's happening, and until we know what, it's best if you and the sparklings are kept under guard."

Sam opened his mouth to question Bee more when the sound of squealing tires grabbed his attention. He watched as Arcee burned rubber out of the base, hauling ass and heading towards who knows where.

"Where is she going?" he asked softly.

"Arcee is going to pick up your parents." At Sam's horrified expression Bee elaborated.

"Optimus says they are fine. This is just a precaution."

He could see Optimus and the others huddled around each other. The large blue and red bot was giving orders. The others were nodding and talking amongst themselves.

Spring…uh something, Sam didn't remember his name - the green bot suddenly transformed into a kick-ass looking helicopter and took off. Sam frowned, he was heading in the same direction as Arcee, which just happened to be the direction of Tranquility as well.

"Wheeljack, any ideas as to how they knew to target the child?"

The engineer looked tired, Sam thought, making a face. He also had a bunch of green-yellow streaks on him.

He forced himself to ignore _that_ little tidbit.

"I'm not sure. The humans Glen and Maggie did a good job hiding Sam and his parents. Nothing should show up, not even a credit report."

Sam watched as everyone's eyes flickered. Probably hitting the internet or something.

"Ain't it obvious?" Ironhide snarled, guns whirling. "Barricade must have told them what city Sam lives in."

"But that still doesn't explain how they knew about the boy," Ratchet said. Sam made an effort not to notice the dents, or the white and green paint.

"Who?" Sam asked, his voice cracking. He had a bad feeling about this.

All the transformers looked down at him. He meet their optics, the feeling he had in his gut getting worse.

"There has been an attack."

"Decepticons?"

Wheeljack shook his head. "We're not sure. Granted, the early warning system is crude, but to completely evade detection?"

Ironhide chimed in looking annoyed. "Why are we just talking about this? Lets go and blast those bastards back into the atmosphere!"

"The human…" Wheeljack started but Ironhide cut him off.

"Is probably already dead."

"We don't know that," Wheeljack snapped back, Ratchet was nodding, agreeing with his bonded.

"_Who_?" Sam asked again, this time louder.

Prowl was standing outside the circle. He spoke for the first time, getting everyone's attention. "They want Sam."

The silence that followed was oppressive. Sam shuddered in fear. Who wanted him? The Decepticons? It was bad enough he'd had to face Megatron. He didn't want any more Decepticons after him. He didn't really do anything. He just…it was just a fluke that he'd been close enough to use the Allspark as he had.

"Most probably, they contacted Barricade and discovered which city Sam had previously resided in."

"But the boy? How?"

Prowl raised his hand, cutting Wheeljack off.

"Tranquility high school. There were Cybertronian prints; someone has hacked the schools' records. I suspect they linked the two together from yearbook pictures."

"Oh _slag it_," Ratchet swore loudly, looking like he wanted to hit something. Judging by the faces of everyone else, that had been an unexpected source as well.

"We tried so hard…to protect everyone." Optimus rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked really upset.

"It's almost impossible to completely erase all ties to a young human's life." Prowl said calmly, and then continued. "The fact they attacked the boy shows you did well to protect Sam's Creators - "

"_WHAT IS GOING ON_!?" Sam suddenly screamed, fed up with being ignored.

Prowl glanced at Optimus once before facing the young human. His voice was cold and calculating. Sam didn't know Prowl all that well, but from what he could tell, Prowl was always like that. It didn't mean he didn't care, or that he really was cold. It was just how he was.

"Your human friend, Miles, he has been kidnapped."

Sam blinked.

"Oh god no…"

Miles…not Miles. Sam closed his eyes, fists clenching at his side. No no _no_ - this couldn't be happening. Miles had nothing to do with this. He hadn't been a part of Mission City or the battle. He didn't even know about the Autobots.

This wasn't right!

"He's alive, right?" he asked, looking straight at Prowl. He knew out of all the Autobots, Prowl wouldn't lie to him to save his feelings.

The tactician looked at him a long moment, his eyes glowing bright blue. "The odds are slim. We can't be sure. We don't even know if it was a Decepticon attack."

"Sam's female Creator said she heard a transformation sequence."

"That's 'mother', Ironhide," Sam said automatically. He'd gotten so used to trying to correct the Autobots when they made mistakes that it was automatic.

Prowl glanced over at Ironhide. "We still do not know. Wheeljack's sensors should have picked up something."

"They could have slipped by!" Ironhide said getting aggravated. His guns hadn't stopped whirling once.

"Unlikely," Prowl stated firmly.

"How do we find them?" Sam said, voice soft. In his head he was reliving every moment with his best bud. They had met even before kindergarten; their mothers had been friends from when they were in school. They had been friends pretty much since they were born.

Some of Sam's first memories were of Miles. They were more like brothers than friends.

Sam felt sick. Miles…he should have done something. Told him, tried to protect him. _I didn't tell him, TO protect him. I thought…we all thought that if he just stayed out of it, he would be okay. That the Decepticons wouldn't link us. _

Prowl answered Sam's question, although he turned to Optimus, addressing the Prime more than the human. "It's likely that they are still in Tranquility." The tactician crossed his arms in a suprisingly human gesture. "They probably don't yet know that we are aware of them. We have the element of surprise."

Prime nodded.

" Do not engage if you find them. We have to step carefully if the human boy is going to survive."

The Autobots all transformed, except for Wheeljack and Bee.

"I'm going with you," Sam suddenly spoke up. Bee looked down at him in surprise.

"Sam," Prime said softly.

"No. Optimus, please. Miles is practically my brother!"

"This will be dangerous, Sam. If there are Decepticons we can't risk you. You will be targeted."

Sam shook his head. "I know that. Because of this Miles might be dead!"

He was shaking now. He was useless. He was always useless. When things mattered, all he could do was run.

_Not this time. There is something I can do. _

"If need be, I'll take his place."

"SAM!" Bee shouted out in shock. The other Autobots looked just as stunned, even in their vehicle modes.

"Sam. I can't allow that."

"It's my fault!" Sam tried to force himself to calm down. He couldn't let the Autobots think this was just his emotions. He was serious.

"I can't allow Miles to die for me. It's not right. He has nothing to do with this."

Sam took a deep breath. "And you have no right to tell me I can't. You were going to sacrifice yourself, Optimus. I will not let Miles die when I can do something about it."

Optimus didn't move; none of the Autobots did. So Sam said one final thing. It was all he could think of to say.

"Better me than him."

There was a long pause. Sam wondered if the Autobots were speaking through their radios. Suddenly Optimus opened his door.

"Optimus!" Bee looked shocked.

"Bee, stay here with Wheeljack and the sparklings."

Sam was already climbing into the semi's cab.

"Optimus, you can't be…!"

"That's an order, Bumblebee!" Optimus snapped as he closed his door almost violently. His engine roared to life. "Autobots - roll out!"

"_Bumblebee,"_ Ironhide spoke over on a private channel. _"You take care of those little ones. I'll take care of Sam. Ain't no one going ta die tonight!"_

Bee nodded. Hating the fact he wasn't being allowed to go. He knew why, too. If it came down to Sam giving himself over to the Decepticons, Bee wouldn't let him do it. He would do everything in his power to stop it, including grabbing the human and running.

Optimus knew this. And that was why he was left sparkling-sitting.

0000

"Ah man, ah _man_ we are in so much trouble!"

"Perchè il relativo un essere umano giusto. Chi ha andare mancarlo?**"**

"_Prime_ will miss it, you idiot!"

"Nonlo denomini un idiot, moron**!"**

"We are _sooo_ slagged. I think you deactivated it!"

"Non lo ho colpito CHE duro**."**

"The Pit you didn't hit it that hard! You made it LEAK!"

"Così? Gli esseri umani fuoriescono tutto il tempo**."**

Miles woke up to the strangest conversation he'd ever heard. He moaned, trying to remember what he'd been doing last. Was he in an accident? Did Trent kick his ass again? He hurt all over.

Two voices, painfully loud and with strange metal undertones were yelling at each other in thick accents. He could only understand one of them; the other was yelling back in what sounded like Italian, hmm maybe French? No, sounded more like Italian. For some reason, the sound of their voices really annoyed him. Like Trent walking toward him kind of annoyed.

Did he know someone with an Italian accent…and did he dislike him for some reason?

God above, he was hurting.

Waking up a bit more, Miles cringed as his body throbbed. He was starting to get kind of worried. This wasn't normal kind of pain. It felt like he was really hurt.

"We should have taken it to its medics."

"Non fino a che ci non dica che cosa desideriamo conoscere**."**

"It can't tell us anything if it's dead!"

_DEAD!_

Miles suddenly remembered being chased by Candy Apple red. Remembered getting hit by Sun Gold yellow.

He sat up. It took half a second, but his brain finally realized that yes, that hurt a lot. Too much. He cried out in pain and fell back down again. The arguing in the background stopped.

Miles didn't pay much attention, his side felt like it was on fire. Did he break some ribs? Oh god, it hurt so much!

"Il relativi in linea."

"A brilliant deduction, brother."

Miles closed his eyes just trying to breath. His breath felt ragged, he could actually feel his ribs poking him with every inhale.

"Owww…"

"Sacco della carne, dove è il Sam Witwicky!?"

Miles understood he was being asked something by the tone, and he recognized Sam's name. But other than that, he had no idea what the voice just said. Finally managing to get a grip on the pain, he opened his eyes and looked towards where the voices were coming from. He should tell them that he didn't speak whatever the _fuck_ and hopefully they would leave him alone. He doubted it, but he was in enough pain to try anyway.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Those were NOT Italians!

"OH MY GOD GIANT FUCKING ROBOTS!"

His screaming suddenly was cut short as he started to cough violently. He grabbed his sides, trying hold his ribs in place and not die on the spot.

The two robots, one red, the other yellow, looked at each other and then back at him.

"Where is Sam Witwicky?"

Miles finally got control over his coughing. Terrified like he had never ever _EVER_ been before, he stared at what his mind said couldn't be real.

"Ro…robots!"

"Non quel luminoso è esso**?" **

"Be nice," Candy apple red said to the other robot as it knelt down. It was huge, like almost 25 feet tall. Looking at it, Miles could see headlights on its chest and what looked like car parts here and there, all in that disgustingly familiar shade of red. That, combined with the accent, made it so that it didn't take a genius to figure out that these robots were actually the cars that had terrorized him earlier.

What the _hell_ was Sam into that giant–robot car-look-a-likes were asking about him?

He swallowed, eyes huge. "I…I…don't…know."

There was a loud noise, like an engine revving in what sounded like pure rage. Sun gold yellow was suddenly there, pushing Candy apple red out of the way and reaching for him.

"Non bugia a noi voi squishy inutile**!"**

"SUNSTREAKER!"

Candy apple red grabbed Sun gold yellow'ss arm as the robot reached for him. Miles screamed again, trying to get away. It hurt so bad - he couldn't stand up - so he settled for scooting backwards on his ass to get out of reach.

Looking around, panicked, he realized he had no idea where he was. He was in some sort of building, large enough for both robots to stand and move about freely. A warehouse maybe? He had no idea how long he had been out. He didn't know where he was, and he didn't know how injured he was.

"I don't know I don't know I DON'T KNOW!" Miles screamed out interrupting whatever the robots were going on about. He could only understand half the conversation. "I don't know where Sam is! Or what the hell is going on! I don't know NOTHING about giant robots or Satan's Camaro! And even if I did I am _NOT_ going to rat on my bro!"

By the end of his little speech Miles was holding his sides again in pain. He could taste blood,which he was pretty sure was a bad thing. Still, he meant what he said. He wouldn't betray his bro no matter what. Even if they killed him, he wouldn't be telling them anything.

The two robots looked at him and then at each other.

"Poco scimmia-ratto dello slaggin. Ora che cosa? Ciò era l'unico cavo che potremmo trovare."

"He could be lying to us you know," Candy apple red pointed out.

"Non sia stupido. Potete dire a come pure io latta che non sta trovandosi."

"Don't call me stupid, scrapheap."

Candy apple red paused, looking at Miles in a way that made him uncomfortable.

"Fine, you don't know where he is currently. Where did he reside?"

"Huh?"

"His home residence. Where did he live before?"

Miles spit out a mouthful of blood and grinned humorously at the robot, teeth stained red.

"Go stick a potato in your exhaust."

"That…" Candy apple red said over the loud snicker from Sun gold yellow, "was not a smart answer."

"Yeah well, I'm not very smart."."

Miles was shaking all over as the robot again kneeled down in front of him. _Oh god that's a big robot!_

He tried to look macho, not something he was well versed in. Sam might not be at his house anymore, but his mom and dad were. Ron and Judy were like second parents to him. No way in hell would he tell these two anything that might get them hurt.

He closed his eyes as Candy apple red reached for him.

_I'm going to die. I'm sorry, Bro. You'll be pissed at me. I just wanted to protect you._

Miles felt large fingertips touch him, but they didn't grab him or even hurt him.

"Listen, kid. You don't seem to understand. Sam Witwicky is in danger. We need to know where he is. Someone's covered his tracks. There are other…_nastier_ bots like us after your 'bro'."

"Why should I…" Miles coughed a few times, "believe you! You tried to kill me!"

Candy apple red glanced at the other robot.

"Actually, Sunstreaker did, though he didn't mean to try and kill you. He's just not good with organics. Your kind is so fragile."

Miles felt panic deep inside. What if these two were telling the truth? Would telling them anything help Sam? Or hurt him? He just didn't know.

Closing his eyes, Miles hoped to god what he was about to say didn't get him killed.

"Sorry, I don't believe you. I ain't going to tell you squat!"

"Perchè brat piccolo, io squish voi in una sbavatura organica!" Sun gold yellow lunged for him again, forcing a high pitched and totally girly scream from Miles.

"Sunstreaker DON'T!" Candy apple red went to intercept again when suddenly…

BOOM!!!

Miles cried out again as the world suddenly erupted into heat and flame. He curled into a fetal position covering his head the best he could. His ribs were screaming at him but he couldn't force himself to move any further.

"AH I'm going to DIE!"

"SIAMO AI ATTACCHI!"

"No, you think!?"

The two robots' forearms had changed, turning into some sort of weapons, and they began shooting at something that Miles couldn't see.

"Glie li porti mucchi dello scarto dello slaggin! Strapperò verso l'esterno la vostra scintilla e la spingerò nelle vostre scanalature dell'interfaccia**!"**

Miles shuddered. Sun Gold Yellow was roaring at someone. His voice sounded downright vicious; it sent shivers down his spine. He didn't even know what the robot was screaming and it scared him. There was just something about the yellow one that suddenly screamed _death_ to Miles.

_I'm going to die! I'm so sorry, Sam. I tried my best. _

"We've located the Decepticons!" Ironhide shouted over the comm.

Beside him, Ratchet wasn't sure whether or not to kill the Decepticons or Ironhide first. He had tried to stop the trigger-happy weapons specialist, but it had been a futile effort. The instant one of the mechs had moved towards the human, Ironhide had started shooting.

He hoped Prime took those stupid guns away from him when this was all over.

Ratchet left the fighting as he tried to sneak around the othe side of the warehouse. He could see the human on the ground. He couldn't tell from this distance, but it seemed to be injured.

The ground shook with explosions. Insults from both sides were being thrown along with weapons fire. The two Decepticons were pretty good; they were matching Ironhide in firepower. It worried Ratchet, really; he hoped the others would get here soon.

He wasn't sure how much he would be able to back up Ironhide if he had to take care of an injured human as well. He just hoped he would be able to help. Theoretically, he knew more than any human doctor, but he'd never actually tried to heal an organic. It would be a first for the medic.

Glancing around some debris, Ratchet studied the human. Blonde hair, small for his age, and disturbingly still. It was also still lying on the ground.

That wasn't normal human behavior. Any other human would have tried to run from the fight. This one just was just lying there.

He tried to extend his sensors out, hoping to avoid detention from the Decepticons. Ironhide seemed to have their full attention, but one could never be too safe.

"Slag it," he whispered to himself. He could tell the human was alive, there was a heartbeat and respiration, but he couldn't tell how injured it was.

"Non potreste colpire il vasto lato di un Supremo! Voi parte antiquata di impulsi errati dello slaggin di scarto**!"**

Ratchet paused. That wasn't Cybertronian or English. He didn't dare access the internet or he'd be sensed. The best he could guess, it was another human language. The humans had so many, an oddity considering how small their planet was.

"HAHA! You almost got him, Sunshine!"

**"**Nonlo denomini quello o sarete seguenti**!"**

"Ohh I'm so scared."

Ratchet suddenly froze, a strong feeling of - what did the humans call it? - déjà vu overcoming him. Those two sounded very familiar. Lifting his head, he tried to look again, this time at the two Decepticons.

Gold and red. Why did that tickle his memory chips?

The red one was laughing like this was the biggest joke ever. The gold one was snarling, looking dangerous, and if his deadly aim and powerful weapons were any indication, he was.

"Ironhide, stop shooting."

"Huh – what? Why?!"

"Do it!" Ratchet snarled as he stood up. He heard Ironhide spit out a curse as Ratchet literally stormed into his line of fire. The two…_twins_ didn't notice him at first, although they seemed confused as to why the other had suddenly stopped firing.

He took his favorite wrench out of subspace. It was big and heavy, perfect for throwing or using as a blunt instrument. He rarely used it to actually heal a bot, but rather to knock sense into them.

He used it to its full potential as without hesitation, he marched right up behind the two hellions and nailed them both over the helms. Sideswipe yelped, clutching his head, while Sunstreaker whirled to fire on him.

The action was brought to a halt, his optics going wide as he realized just WHO had just hit him.

Ratchet growled low in his chest.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO _THINKING_! YOU HURT A HUMAN! I OUGHT TO RIP OUT YOUR SPARK YOU SLAGGING GLITCH HEAPS!" Ratchet roared loud enough for probably even Bee and Wheeljack to hear back at the base.

The pair, stunned, shrunk back under the onslaught.

"_Optimus. They aren't Decepticons."_

Optimus sent a questioning tone over the comm. Ratchet sighed as he turned away from the brothers. He would scream at them more later. Right now, he had an injured human to attend to.

"_The banes of my existence."_

There was a pause. _"…the Twins?"_

"_Got it on the first try, Optimus."_

Optimus inquired about the boy.

"_Leave me the frag alone and I'll see."_ There was a pause as Ratchet scanned the boy. Unconscious and badly damaged.

The medic's internal gears grounded against each other in sheer rage. Still, he forced himself to focus. He would slag the Twins later. Right now, he needed to help this human.

"_He is badly injured. I'm taking him to the human hospital. There's nothing I can do - I don't have the equipment."_

"Ironhide, put the human inside me. NOW!"

Ironhide stood up. He frowned, not sure what was going on, but as he came closer he saw what Ratchet had figured out.

"Sideswipe! Sunstreaker! By the Allspark, I almost offlined you!"

"Ha, potete provarli mucchio antiquato dello scarto**."**

Sideswipe snickered.

"Ironhide, _NOW_!"

Ratchet transformed, opening his back doors to allow Ironhide to place the damaged human in his hold.

"We will talk about this later, you two," Ratchet promised. The Twins gave each other a look, both with expressions of horror on their faces.

"Sorry, Ratchet - it just…"

"CAN IT!"

With that Ratchet peeled out, burning rubber as he turned his sirens and lights on, heading towards the nearest hospital with a decent trauma unit. The Twins watched him until he was out of sensor range.

"Siamo slagged non siamo noi**?"**

"Yes…I think we are, brother. Ratchet will offline us for good over this."

Sideswipe turned to his brother and swiped at him. Sunstreaker avoided the blow, glaring at his sibling.

"I told you we were slagged! Why did you have to hit the human so hard!?"

"Non lo ho colpito a duro. Gli esseri umani sono a fragile**!"**

"You slammed into it doing almost 20 clicks, of course that'll hurt it! Fragile doesn't have anything to do with it!"

"Migliori che quel stupido gioco che del mouse del gatto stavate giocando**!"**

"Hey hey _hey_, I wasn't playing! I was trying to scare it enough so it would stop running!"

"Che cosa reso esso l'arresto più presto**."**

"Ya, well, what _you_ did almost killed it!"

Ironhide whirled his cannons, listening to the two brothers fight. He'd already downloaded Italian, so he knew what Sunstreaker was saying. But that left the question - why? English was the main language of where they were.

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you purposely hurt that human…for now. But first - why the slaggin Pit are you speaking Italian?"

Sideswipe glanced at Ironhide and shrugged. "Sunstreaker doesn't like English."

"Americani e la loro lingua alesaggio. Nessun codice categoria nessuno stile**."**

Ironhide frowned as he took a moment to look the the two over. The Twins' alt mode wasn't like anything he'd seen around these parts. And how in the Pit did they avoid Wheeljack's scanners? That was an important point, because if they could do it, so could the Decepticons.

"How did you arrive without Wheeljack sensing you?" The Twins glanced at each other.

"Well, uh…we arrived before Jack, for one."

"Wheeljack qui? Ecco perchè Ratchet era così grumpy."

Ironhide's optics flickered in surprise. "Really? How long?"

"Uh…about half a vorn."

Ironhide went still. The brothers didn't seem to notice the calm before the storm, too busy arguing with each other again.

Half a vorn…that would be almost 40 human years…they had been on the planet _that_ long? That was even before Bee had landed.

"Why didn't you answer Bumblebee's call?"

Ironhide's tone caught Sideswipe's attention. He shrugged, proving to Ironhide that they had been around humans for a while. That was a human gesture, and not one of the first ones a mech picked up.

"We were in Italy. Not like we could walk over. Besides, I get sea sick," Sideswipe said casually.

"Non c'sono nessun senso io che ottengo dovunque vicino ad un oceano. Avete tutta l'idea che acqua salata farebbe alla mia vernice!"

Ironhide could hardly cycle air he was so furious. He was seeing red as the humans put it. actually shaking as he tried to rein in his anger. He was shaking trying to rein in his anger. Optimus wouldn't like it if he murdered the Twins.

He offlined his optics.

"You fraggers!"

The Twins looked at him in surprise.

"You were in Italy. This whole TIME!"

"Sì?"

Ironhide couldn't stand it anymore. These bastards had been chilling in Europe while the Allspark was being destroyed. They were probably the best fighters the Autobots had. They should have been there! Things might have been different if they had been there!

In a spark beat he was lunging for the nearest of the two.

"BASTARDS!"  
He screamed using the human term and attacked them.

"WHOA!"

Sideswipe yelped in panic as the large black bot threw himself at them.

Sunstreaker also tried to back away not sure what had set the weapons specialist off. He wasn't quick enough and the two collided.

Ironhide wasn't kidding. He was seriously fritzed!

"è insano! Ottenga questo impulso errato fuori di me!"

Sunstreaker choked back a scream as Ironhide got a hold of some wire and pulled. He wasn't kidding. He took that back he was more than just fritzed. Ironhide was trying to deactivate them!

"IRONHIDE!"

Optimus rolled up, followed by Prowl and Springer.

Ironhide screamed in rage, not even noticing the new arrivals. Most of his words were lost in electronic squeals of fury.

Optimus waited until Sam got out and then quickly transformed.

It took all three of them to get Ironhide off.

"IRONHIDE, stand down!"

Optimus bellowed as he tried to keep Ironhide's weapons pointed away from the twins.

"Let me go!"

Ironhide roared.

"I'm going to deactivate them!"

"Calm down!"

Springer and Prowl did their best to hold Ironhide back as well. Prowl was a tactician, and was neither built with strength or size in mind. He was only a little larger than Bee and while Springer was slightly larger than Ironhide, the triple changer was no where near as strong.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE! You useless piles of scrap!"

"Stand down Ironhide, that's an ORDER!"

Optimus's voice was finally getting through the thick skinned solider. Vents hissing as his systems tried to cool down engaged systems. He stood up no longer straining against the others.

For several moments he stood there, just trying to control himself. Optimus let go sensing the worst was over. He then walked over to the Twins to make sure they were ok.

With a snarl Ironhide jerked out of Prowl's and Springers grip.

Finally when he was sure he wouldn't freak again Ironhide looked up at Optimus. His optics were so bright they were almost white.

"I aplogize sir."

Ironhide gritted out.

"Did we miss something?"  
Sideswipe asked confused.

"A lot. Megatron is dead, the Allspark was destroyed in a battle in Mission City."

Ironhide snarled the glare he sent them should have melted them into slag on the spot.

"JAZZ is dead!"  
The Twins went shock still.

"Apparently we missed a lot."

Sideswipe said softly. He glanced at his brother then back to Ironhide.

Optimus stood back, letting things unfold. He wasn't sure what happened but as long as they weren't trying to rip each other apart, he would allow them to deal with their own differences.

"How…how did Jazz die?"

"Megatron."

Optimus answered when Ironhide didn't.

"Il non nostro difetto allora. Mai scintillando li è insegnati che non combatti Megatron. Il relativo suo proprio difetto."

Sideswipe gasped at his brothers incredibly callous and insulting words.

The words had barely left Sunstreaker's mouth when suddenly Prowl was there. For a being known for his brains rather than his brawn. Prowl could pack a punch. Not expecting to be attacked, and already wounded from Ironhide's rampage, Sunstreaker took the full force of the blow. He actually became airborne as it threw him back several feet. He was offline even before he hit the ground.

"SUNSTREAKER!"

Sideswipe cried out in alarm.

"Stay where you are!"

Prowl snarled, Sideswipe froze, meeting Prowls optics and looked away immediately. He couldn't hold that gaze after what Sunstreaker had just said.

How could Sunstreaker say it was Jazz's own fault for trying to stand against Megatron? They both knew Jazz, and they both knew he wouldn't have done something so incredibly stupid without a reason. Then again it didn't surprise him toho much. Sunstreaker was so emotionally defensive he often said things he didn't mean…but still that had been bad even for him.

"Was that necessary Prowl?"  
Optimus asked. Prowl gave a single sharp nod.

"It was."**  
**


	11. K I S er something something T!

AN: Never thought I'd get this done. Sorry but I just haven't had time to write much. Computer problems and work really drag on the updates ya know.

A shout out to my beta Byrnstar. What wonderful things beta's are. Especially ones that actually know what their doing when it comes to the more techincal aspects of writing. I believe my dad said it all when he accused me of having the grammar of a fifth grader. Course coming from him I don't really pay much attention. Dad is like...on a whole different level when it comes to grammar and stuff. He's like the prowl of techincal writting.

Any hopefully this will keep the harpies of updating at bay. You know who you are :P

999

-1He was insane.

Utterly and totally insane. No other excuse could explain it. He was a Cybertronian, a Decepticon, evil and cruel, a warrior. It didn't take a lot of imagination to think that an _Autobot_ might feel this way - they were weak-willed and into all that gooey mushy love scrap. It would probably be easy for them to want a relationship with a human.

He, on the other hand, was a Decepticons, a rather vicious and violent one at that. He believed in survival of the fittest. Those too weak to survive did not deserve to survive. He still believed that, even laying in this garage half disassembled. Luck was its own form of strength, after all.

Ok, so he was insane. He could accept that. Had already accepted it, really. After all, it was nothing new to him. He'd been insane before, and at least this time he wasn't trying to slag everything in sight. There was insanity, and then there was just plain stupidity, like when he had attacked Megatron the first time he'd gone mad. The tyrant hadn't even bothered to use his fusion cannon, merely swatting him around like a bug until Bonecrusher had offlined. He'd been lucky he hadn't been killed on the spot.

Yes, he definitely believed luck was its own kind of strength.

Still, the shock of it just…_shocked_ him. Like a mantra, all that he could think about was that he was interested in a little organic. A _very_ tiny little organic. He could step on her and she would go squish. She was so very small that it was ridiculous.

Bonecrusher sighed to himself.

He had turned off the pretender shell so he could get some decent recharge. It wasn't working; his processors refused to start the sub routines that would let him rest. He tried to look at the situation logically, although doing so made his logic protocols fritz and threaten to abandon him entirely. There was absolutely nothing logical about this situation.

Ok, so he wanted the little organic. He wasn't the kind of mech that would lie to himself. He knew what he was and what he wanted. And he wanted Mikaela. Her form appealed to him, strangely enough. He really liked her hands, soft and warm.

Obviously there were complications involved with this, even if he ever _did_ get a 'yes' from Mikaela. The organic could probably touch him into overload, but he wouldn't be able to do the same for her. His hands were too large; one of his fingers was easily as thick as her leg.

And he was pretty sure Mikaela didn't have a hook up he could plug into.

Bonecrusher snorted to himself, amused as he tried to visualize what _that_ might look like if she did.

The next obvious route was to use his pretender shell. He just…well, he had no idea how humans interfaced. He'd been on the planet for years, and yet he'd never really paid attention. He knew fluids were involved, which didn't disgust him as much as he thought it should. He also didn't know if he could even reach overload using his shell.

Bonecrusher could hear Mikaela talking to a customer outside. She had left him almost 3 hours ago to go work. It annoyed him, but at the same time he understood. Without this job she wouldn't have power to sustain him; apparently it was costing her a lot to keep him supplied through his link to the shop outlets. So he allowed it without much complaint.

Really the only other excuse other than insanity he could come up with was that perhaps he was lonely. He hadn't interacted with anyone more than absolutely necessary since his brothers' deaths. He avoided other mechs, sometimes starting fights when they didn't take a hint, and actively scorned those that showed interest in him. He had been hurting too much, for too long to even think about interfacing.

His brothers were probably laughing their afts off at him from the Pit. After so many vorns, when his libido finally did come back it locked its sights onto a little tiny organic femme.

Bonecrusher scoffed to himself, utterly disgusted.

Attracted to a squishy.

And no idea how to seal the deal, so to speak.

He wished he could access the internet. The human database probably had everything and anything he would ever need to learn about the subject. He had learned that the first few days after landing on Earth. At the time he had pointedly ignored the constant references, being more focused on downloading the local language and necessary information to blend in. He wished now that he'd paid more attention.

Mikaela had a computer, even had high-speed access, however…

_Stupid human keyboard. _

He couldn't read human languages. Those little marks on the keyboard made no sense to him. Before, he hadn't needed to know the human writing system. He didn't read websites in the way humans did.

Bonecrusher tapped a large finger against the concrete underneath him. The last torture session had given him back some movement. He could move his hands, although he still couldn't lift his arms. He could also turn his neck without pain.

His mind drifted back to Mikaela. He really liked her hands, small graceful. She kept her fingernails short, and plain, not decorated like most females of her species. She had thickened skin on her fingers and palm, no doubt from the work she did, and though he supposed they might be considered rough compared to other human females, they were still soft to him.

Even if they did regularly cause him intense pain, the pleasure was often greater.

Sensors activated at the memory of hands on his wires. They ached as if searching for the source of their simulation. Just like he knew would happen, frustration was setting in.

With an annoyed grunt, Bonecrusher turned the shell back on. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to recharge anytime soon.

He quickly got dressed, knowing Mikaela would freak out on him again if he went in the skins. He didn't really understand the need for clothing. They weren't that warm, offered little to no protection, and they hindered the reproductive process. At least he thought they did. He might not know exactly how humans interfaced, but he was pretty sure they couldn't do it with clothes on.

After he was dressed Bonecrusher headed toward where he could hear Mikaela cursing to herself. The customer from earlier had apparently already left.

Good.

He found Mikaela on her back underneath a car. "Problems?" he asked, and for once Mikaela didn't scream at him for startling her.

"I don't know what this guy was doing. But he fucked his tyranny up good," she snarled loudly from under the car.

Bonecrusher glanced at the open hood and winced. If the car had been sentient, he would have taken it out of its misery. The engine was filthy, caked in dirt and rusting through in several places, and looked like it hadn't had its belts changed since its creation. The thought of how old and disgusting the oil and transmission fluids inside it must be made his fuel tank want to purge.

Reaching in, he started to tinker.

"Crush?"

"I'm bored, " he said firmly, not wanting to explain his actions.

Mikaela's hands appeared from under the car. Bonecrusher felt both his mech and shell systems speed up. She then pulled, and rolled out from under the car on the small board with wheels she'd been lying on.

"You know anything about cars?"

Crush growled at her. He was a medic. This human technology was so below him it wasn't even funny.

She laughed. The sound was something he wouldn't think he would enjoy…but it made him feel warm inside. He really liked her laugh, he decided. It was much better than that horrible squeaking sound she had made when he had accidentally hurt her.

"Ok ok. I'll admit that's a stupid question."

Bonecrusher grunted and returned to fiddling with the engine.

Back under the car Mikaela called out. "If you could, just make a list of what needs to be done. I'll have to call the ass and find out what he's willing to pay for."

"What _doesn_'t need to be done?" he replied blandly, causing Mikaela to chuckle again.

"True true, but he probably won't pay to fix everything. Cheaper to buy a new car."

"If this vehicle was a mech, I'd deactivate him."

"Ouch. Harsh."

Bonecrusher leaned over the fender, looking at Mikaela…or rather, at the long legs sticking out from under the car. "Why did you leave Megatron's killer?"

There was a loud thunk and a curse as apparently his question startled her. Rolling out from under the car again she gave him a strange look.

"What?" she asked rubbing the slightly red spot on her forehead. She only managed to smear a dark black oil mark onto her skin.

"Are humans not happier when paired off?"

Sitting up, Mikaela leaned back against the car for support. "I guess. But…" She had to resist running her oil stained hand through her hair. "Well…I'm not sure. I mean, I still like Sam. He just…"

Mikaela hesitated, then glanced up at Bonecrusher. "Why are you asking?"

Bonecrusher frowned then shrugged. "Curiosity. That human will have a bright future. Optimus Prime will ensure it."

Mikaela looked away. Bonecrusher wasn't sure he liked the look on her face. She obviously still had feelings for the human boy. How would that affect him? He didn't know anything at this point. What he did from here on out would be new territory.

"Too bright…" she finally said, grunting softly to herself as she stood up. "Sam's future is too bright for me. I'm just a mechanic."

Bonecrusher stared at her in complete and utter shock. He watched, optic wide, as she walked over to her toolbox and started to rummage around.

_Just a mechanic? _

Did she not realize how talented she was? Did she not see that she was a genius even by Cybertronian standards? Given training, she could become the human equivalent of Ratchet. The Autobot was a legend among medics, rumored to be the best ever sparked. Even the lowliest Decepticons had heard about the fierce medic and his abilities.

How could she call herself 'just a mechanic'? It wasn't modesty either. His brother Scrapper had been modest, never taking credit for anything. Always denying his talents and pushing his brothers forward to be recognized. But even deep down Scapper had known how good he was.

And Mikaela honestly believed what she'd said. He could hear the conviction in her voice. It was a concept that was difficult for him to wrap his processors around.

_Just a mechanic? _

"What?" Mikaela asked, finally noticing the look on his face. She had several tools in her hands.

He looked down at her hands, identifying the simple tools. Humans were so simple. Their tools, their computers…everything was simple. And yet they had accomplished so much with such simple things.

He wondered what they would do with more advanced technology. He had no doubt they would quickly adopt and learn to use it, shape and change it to suit their needs. After all, that was what they did with Megatron. Turning the greatest and most terrifying warrior of the Cybertronian race into a test subject. But if given higher technology, he wondered…would they be able to improve on it? His kind were always tinkering and inventing. But honestly Bonecrusher, couldn't even remember the last time a major breakthrough had been mad. Surely before the war. Maybe even before he'd been sparked.

But look at the humans. They'd gone from flying on little more than gliders to exploring their solar system in less than a hundred years. It was processor scrambling.

Bonecrusher suddenly realized he couldn't deny the human races' potential. Especially with Mikaela being such a prime example. Humans, despite their soft weak bodies, might actually have more potential than Cybertronians. More so, now that his race was doomed to extinction.

Mikaela had gone from fixing cars to fixing _him_. With no one to guide her, she'd saved his life.

"Just a mechanic?" he said, allowing some of his incredulous disbelief echo through his human voice, and was rewarded with a puzzled frown.

Bonecrusher turned and sat on the fender of the car, crossing his arms as he'd seen some humans do, and studied Mikaela intently. He could tell it was making her nervous by the way she suddenly couldn't look him in the eye.

"You really don't get it, do you?" he finally asked. Mikaela looked offended, although slightly confused to as if she didn't know what to be offended about. "You fix cars for a living. Until four months ago, you didn't even know my kind existed."

Bonecrusher uncrossed his arms and stood up. In a few long strides he was in front of her looking down. She was so small; even his pretender shell towered over her. "And you went from fixing _cars_ to saving my _life_."

Her face was still turned away from him. And while he might not know jack about humans, he did know that eye contact was important. He vaguely remembered reading a few scientific articles about it while he'd been sitting bored in the construction lot. He wished she would just _look_ at him. He wanted her to hear him. To truly 'get' what he was saying to her. He wanted her to understand. For some Primus-forsaken reason, he felt she needed to know how good she actually was.

"Do you honestly think any run of the mill human could do what you have done?"

he asked, no hint of any emotion in his voice. He watched as Mikaela shifted slightly, titling her body away from him and face scrunching up in what he was learning was a 'thinking' expression. When she didn't reply after a moment, Bonecrusher found himself reaching for her face. He touched it gently, ignoring how she jumped.

_Ah, and there are those pheromones. _

His real body cycled air faster, wanting to take in the unique smell. It really was nice. Systems came online and hummed in interest, loud enough they could hear it from out here in the shop.

He gently pulled her chin toward him, forcing her to look at him. Impulsively he wiped his thumb across the black grease spot on her face.

"I don't want to hear that 'just a mechanic' again," he said finally, putting a bit of hostility into his voice. It wasn't really directed at her and she knew it. However it did catch her attention, played with her fight or flight instincts, making her more aware to what he was saying.

He smiled, liking the way the human gesture felt on his shell's face. "I think 'Medic' sounds better, don't you?"

Eyes widened in complete shock, confusion and discomfort completely forgotten as Mikaela simply stared at him.

"Wha…what?" she finally asked. Bonecrusher wiped at the smear with his thumb again, spreading it across her cheek.

He wanted to be closer to her. There were a lot of urges his human shell was having that he had no idea how to interpret. He was also worried of frightening Mikaela. So he did nothing, clueless on how to convey his interest and desires to the organic human female.

"You heard me."

"Medic?"

Bonecrusher nodded as he moved his hand, trailing fingers down her cheek and neck before resting it on her shoulder. He could feel her skin shiver under his touch. He didn't think it was in fear, either, as that nice smell hit a new high.

"I'm not…" She tried to deny it, so Bonecrusher tightened his grip on her shoulder. He was still trying to learn his strength as it pertained to humans. so he might have squeezed a little too hard. She flinched and he instantly released the pressure.

"You fixed me," he said, to cover up the apology his mouth wanted to mutter.

"I guess…" she replied uncertainly.

"You are a medic." He leaned forward slightly. He wanted to do _something_ so badly. He just didn't know _what_. It was so frustrating. Had Mikaela been a femme, all he would have had to do was make a few lewd suggestions and open his interface paneling.

He was thinking so hard he didn't even notice she was leaning forward as well until he felt lips on his.

His eye widened as she wrapped her arms around his neck pressing her lips harder against his.

_Ok this is different. _

Her eyes were closed as he studied her at this close angle for a moment, before following her example and closing his eye.

Oh, this was nice. Her pheromones were spiking like never before. She was warm against him and her lips…her lips were his new favorite part. He'd thought before that her hands were soft, but they were nothing compared to her lips. They were almost like energon, causing his own human version of lips to tingle pleasantly. He could almost taste her and it was far better than anything he had tried on this planet thus far.

He leaned down a bit further making this strange human custom easier for Mikaela. She was so tiny he wasn't even sure how she had reached his lips to begin with.

He moaned when he felt something brush against his lips. It was her glossa, er - what was the human term for it? It was like a mech glossa but different. He couldn't remember; all he knew was that it made his entire body feel overheated.

Desire flooded his systems in a wave of fire. It made his spark ache and throb painfully in his chest. In the other room, his real body hummed, sensors sparking; it was almost too much for them to try and take in everything and process it all. He felt his internal fans kicking on trying to cool his body.

He wanted her so badly.

He'd never wanted anyone so badly in his life.

He didn't care if it was just repression from not interfacing for so long. He didn't care if it was from the contrast of pain and pleasure she always brought him.

He didn't care that she was a human female.

He knew what he wanted, and at that moment nothing was more important to him than the feel of her lips on his.

She continued to brush her glossa against his lips. Poking at the seam of his closed lips. He took the hint and opened his mouth.

_OH!_

This was even better. He could taste her for real now. Granted he hadn't tasted a lot of things – Cybertronians weren't built for the sense like organics were - but he couldn't imagine anything tasting better. Her mouth was soft, her glossa warm and wet. The glossa wasn't that different from a mechs' own, although he would have never imagined doing this as a mech. It would be difficult for mechs anyway, with all the different styles and designs out there.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, being extremely mindful of his strength.

The moment seemed to last forever yet not nearly long enough before she broke the strange gesture.

He opened his eye.

Mikaela's face was bright red, her eyes bright and her lips slightly swollen. She was breathing heavier, the pheromone spikes strong. He didn't say anything, waiting for her to speak.

"Crush?" she finally asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"You…" she whispered, raising a slim hand to her lips. "You kissed back." Her voice was soft with a hint of disbelief and wonder.

Bonecrusher tightened his grip on her waist slightly, holding her closer to him. "Is that what you call it? Kiss?"

"Yes. Kissing."

"S'nice."

She looked shocked by his words. Bonecrusher tried to think of what else to say that would further encourage her, but he didn't know what. "I want to…I would like to kiss you again."

Her eyes widened even further. She placed her hands on his chest pushing slightly against him. He leaned back, giving her more room without actually loosening his grip on her.

"We shouldn't…Crush…this is…"

Bonecrusher cursed softly to himself when she looked away from him.

"It's a human thing. I'm sorry - I shouldn't have -"

_No no **no**! _Bonecrusher fumed to himself, frustrated. He had finally gotten her to express some interest and now she was backing out. He needed to capture her interest again. She was pushing against his chest. Trying to push away. Bonecrusher sensed if she left now, they would never get any further than that kiss. He loosened his arms enough so that she didn't think he was forcing her but refused to let go.

"I want your attentions," he finally said. Hoping that perhaps being blunt would work. Honestly, subtle wasn't him anyway.

"_What_?"

Bonecrusher growled in frustration. How could he say this? He didn't think she would understand him saying he wanted to interface with her.

He paused and then leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. She gasped, but didn't pull away. She also didn't close her eyes.

They stared at each other for several seconds. He had no technique or style, or any idea what he was doing. He was slightly disappointed that his attempt to kiss her wasn't nearly as great as her kissing him. Mikaela didn't shy away from him, which was good - but she didn't seem to be, what did she call it, kissing back?

He broke the kiss.

"I don't know what to do," he finally admitted. Primus, he HATED admitting that.

"I'm human."

"So?"

"That doesn't…like…gross you out?"

He chuckled. The look on her face was priceless. Bonecrusher decided then he liked how expressive human faces were. You could see everything in the way they contorted their muscles.

"One would think so. But no."

He tightened his arms again, bringing her closer. He felt a shiver of excitement shoot up his human spine when she didn't pull away and instead laid her head on his chest.

"…this is so weird."

Bonecrusher couldn't argue with her there. It was strange - everything about the situation was strange. He'd never lusted after anyone outside his species before, especially not an organic. He reached up to run a hand though her hair. It was soft, just like the rest of her. So soft, none of the hardness of metal he was use to. He felt her moving as she shyly wrapped her arms around his waist, and fans kicked on in reaction to heating circuitry. He might have been able to prevent his shell from reacting, but not his real body.

"What's that noise?" she asked, not letting go.

"Me," he answered simply.

"You?"

He smirked at her confused look.

"What? I told you I liked the kiss."

"Oh…OH." Her face flushing an even brighter red. "Oh my god." She was looking back and forth between his shell and the room where his real body was stored. "You mean I'm like…"

Bonecrusher nodded and finished her sentence when she trailed off. "Exciting me? Yes."

"Oh god oh god." She pulled back, shaking her head. Bonecrusher reluctantly released her.

"Crush - this is - this is _nuts_." She turned her back to him throwing up her arms.

"I'm human, you're a giant alien robot. This can't work - I can't even imagine how it would _begin_ to work."

Bonecrusher titled his head as he let her rant.

"I mean, you're really handsome. Really really good looking…"

She stopped, hands wringing together, and whispered softly, "and not just that shell…I mean, you're interesting to look at…Oh god, I think I'm going insane."

"Sanity is overrated," he shot back, feeling a strange elation at her admitting she wasn't just attracted to this human form. It was unexpected.

Slowly she turned back to face him. He tried to read her expressions, but they had simply become too complex for him. Maybe if he had studied humans a bit more he would know, because there were some very strong emotions there, but he didn't know what they were.

"You think?"

He nodded.

She softly bit her lip, eyes troubled.

"Crush…I don't think…"

She was cut off by the sound of someone delicately clearing their throat. Mikaela startled violently, nearly leaping over Crush's head to get some distance between them.

"MRS. Jenkins!"

The elderly woman smiled knowingly then tapped a small wristwatch on her wrist.

"Did you forget our lunch date, sweetie?"

Mikaela blinked then smacked her forehead.

"Yes. _Damnit_. I'm so sorry. Give me a moment, I'll grab my purse."

Bonecrusher frowned harshly as Mikaela fairly ran out of the shop. He let the human shells shoulders sag as he resigned himself to another night of frustration. The woman, Mrs. Jenkins, walked up and patted him on one oversized arm.

He made a displeased sound at her. If she hadn't interrupted…

"I stayed quiet when you were kissing."

Bonecrusher blinked, looking down at the small woman. He didn't care that she caught them doing the human kissing thing. He was more concerned about what they had been talking about _before_ that. Just how much of the conversation did she hear?

"You might not know it now, young man, but I did you a favor. Mikaela was going to say something she and you would regret. Give her a few days. She'll come around."

Mrs. Jenkins winked at him as she turned around and walked out of the shop.

_What in the Pit?_

He wasn't really sure what to make of that woman. He shook his head; it didn't matter, as apparently she hadn't heard anything compromising. If she had, he seriously doubted she would be this calm. The humans he'd seen, even Mikaela, all freaked out when the proof of aliens were first shown to them.

"Crush, could you watch the shop?"

He nodded, watching her wistfully as Mikaela took this opportunity to run away from the situation.

"Slag it," he muttered to himself as he allowed the shell to disappear, not even caring as his clothes tumbled to the ground in a heap. He set his working scanners to warn him if any humans came by, and slowly allowed his mind to drift

Today had been interesting, and productive. He hadn't gotten what he wanted, but it felt like he was closer. Mikaela knew of his interest now. Maybe giving her time, like the female Jenkins had suggested, was exactly what was needed.

He hummed softly as he finally slipped into recharge.

Yes, he could wait. He wanted Mikaela, and he wanted her to want _him_. The glaring issues going against them would need to be dealt with and would take some time.

He would wait.


	12. Banged up

AN: Yo ya'll. Ok another chapter another day. Bonus points for anyone that got the joke involving the name of the last chapter. Also Cookies to anyone that can tell me who the comedian is that I mention later in this story :P. I'll draw or write up a little something something as a nice prize to those that can answer this correctly. Currently I'm working on some art based of the Jux series by Vaeru. If you haven't read this story (or the one by Cafei) there is something wrong with you. Seriously.

Um well I think that's it. I can't really think of anything else to talk about.

enjoys

999999999999999999999

Sideswipe fidgeted nervously as Ratchet repaired the bumps and dents he had recieved in the fight with Ironhide. Ratchet was less than gentle, no doubt his way of bitching about the fight. Wasn't like it was all of their fault, though. They didn't fire the first shot.

It was just their luck that the first Cybertronian they'd seen in years was a trigger-happy psycho. Although, all things considered, they had both gotten off lucky. He suspected if it hadn't been for the fact Ironhide was holding back for the human, neither of them would have lasted long. Ironhide wasn't the Prime's bodyguard and weapons specialist for nothing.

Turning his head, Sideswipe glanced at his offline brother.

Sunstreaker's spark was quiet, quite different from how he usually was, even offline. There was doubt there, and pain, grief…loss.

Sideswipe offlined his optics, not wanting to see his brother so still. In the core of his being, he could feel Sunstreaker's silence against the screaming of his own spark.

Like a mantra, the words _Jazz is dead. Jazz is dead. JAZZ is DEAD_ kept smashing against his CPU. They wouldn't stop no matter how much he screamed back at them, trying to drown out Ironhide's harsh words.

"You're being quiet," Ratchet said softly. Perhaps he sensed the dark place the Twins were in right now, since he had yet to yell at them or threaten them over the human boy since they had come into his med bay.

Sideswipe's vents opened, cooling his internals down, trying to retain some illusion of control. "Just thinking."

Ratchet snorted. "You, thinking?"

"Hey, it happens every vorn or so." Sideswipe cycled air through his vents. "How is he?"

Ratchet glanced over at the golden warrior lying prone on the table. He already knew what was wrong, but sent scanners over him again anyway. He nodded to himself, satisfied that nothing had changed in the few breems since the last scan.

"He's fine. He just needs time to reset his systems."

Sideswipe winced as Ratchet pulled on some wires in his arm before closing the armor. He gave the warrior a pat signaling he was done with the repair.

"He didn't mean it, Ratchet."

The medic paused, gears grinding loudly in his chest as he allowed his hand to transform back from the welder it had been. "I know that, Prime knows that, Pit even Prowl and Ironhide know that."

"He just…Primus." Sideswipe shook his head, looking more upset than Ratchet had ever seen him. "How did…he die? How did it happen?"

"Megatron happened."

Sideswipe shook his head. "No way big bad Megatron managed to catch Jazz on his own."

Ratchet looked away, his optics dimming as he remembered the events of that horrible day. True, they had won the battle. They won the war. But the price had been too high in his opinion; over a thousand humans killed, countless others wounded, Jazz dead…the Allspark destroyed.

"Jazz died saving some human soldiers," he finally said.

Sideswipe sat up, mouth dropping open in surprise. "Humans? He died for some _humans_?"

He started to laugh, and not the happy, 'haha' kind of laugh. There was a bitter edge to it, disbelief and perhaps a touch of hysteria as well. Ratchet crossed his arms, waiting, eyeing the warrior with a hint of worry.

"Died for a human! These things rarely even live to see past a vorn. And Jazz _died_ for them!"

"Calm down."

"NO!"

Ratchet jerked, startled by the venom in Sideswipe's voice. On the other table, some of Sunstreaker's systems quickened, responding to his siblings' anger although he did not awaken.

"How could Jazz do that?! Those who he died to save will be dead before his corpse even starts to rust! Why the slag would he do _THAT_!"

"I don't know," Ratchet said honestly. He hated to admit it, but he had thought the same thing. No doubt Prowl had as well, although he hid it well. The Second in Command hadn't spoken a word to anyone about Jazz's death. When Optimus had told him the details, he had merely lowered his head and asked a few simple questions. Ratchet didn't think it was healthy, keeping such grief inside, but that was and had always been Prowls' way.

Sideswipe's optics were bright, and Ratchet reached out to touch his shoulder. The warrior jumped at the contact, looking between Ratchet's hand and his face. This was a human gesture of comfort. Shuddering, he lowered his head, accepting it.

"Jazz's actions rarely ever made sense to me..." Ratchet said bluntly; no emotions echoed in his voice, none of the harshness he usually reserved for the Twins evident. He was simple stating a fact. "But he certainly never did anything without meaning."

Sideswipe reached up, gripping Ratchet's arm as if it was a lifeline.

"This was the path he chose. For whatever reason. I trust Jazz enough to let it be."

Ratchet could feel Sideswipe trembling through the grip on his arm. He dimmed his optics, not mentioning or even acknowledging the break in the warrior's composure. Every mech dealt with grief differently; some dealt better than others, and Ratchet didn't doubt the Twins' relationship with the small spy.

"We…we didn't get Bee's message," Sideswipe admitted, tightening his grip.

Ratchet nodded. He had suspected as much. The Twins were built to fight; there was no way they would miss one by choice. Besides, his scans had already told him everything he needed to know.

"Your comlinks are slagged good. Can't receive or send anything. How did you manage that?" He stepped forward, tapping on the side of Sideswipes helm in a silent request for the red warrior to open up. A pause, and a small panel moved aside, allowing Ratchet access.

"About half a vorn ago, we caught a faint signal, thought it might be the Allspark. Lost it, though. We found this planet. Decided to kick back and chill 'till we picked it up again."

Sideswipe sighed heavily. "Bad landing. Came in too fast."

Growling, Ratchet tapped him sharply on the helm once with his tool. "Glitches, the both of you."

Sideswipe winced as Ratchet pulled out a burnt and totally destroyed comlink component. He turned the part, amazed that even Sideswipe could find a way to slag a comm so utterly and completely. He was even more amazed the warrior hadn't already taken it out; the part was blackened and had undoubtedly been painful, and from the looks of it was close to rusting.

"Glitches, both of you," he repeated, digging into the warrior's helm again and checking to make sure the slagged part hadn't caused any other damage. "So what's with the accents?"

"You have the accent, not us," Sideswipe snickered, obviously pushing the previous painful conversation out of his processors. "Humans didn't always have the web, Ratchet. Sunstreaker and I landed before it was invented. Hell, they didn't even have computers back then. We had to learn the language the hard way. Guess we just picked it up along the way."

Ratchet gave the warrior a disbelieving look. He'd never heard of an accent being picked up like that. Then again, to Ratchet's knowledge no one had ever had to learn a language without a download before. Perhaps learning rather than downloading affected different parts of the processor…

Might be something to consider studying later. Wheeljack would be fascinated, he was sure.

"I learned English after that. Sunstreaker absolutely hates it. He understands it 'cause I do, but he refuses to speak it."

Ratchet snickered. Sounded just like Sunstreaker, stubborn slagger that he was.

"A few months ago we found a big break. Sam Witwicky."

"The glasses?"

Sideswipe nodded. "Took awhile to get to the States." Sideswipe gave Ratchet a small smile. "And I was telling the true about getting sea sick, and Sunstreaker being the bucket of sunshine he is wouldn't shut up about the salt air on his finish."

Almost like he heard Sideswipe talking about him, Sunstreaker suddenly shifted. His pale optics flickering unsteadily for several moments before they glowed their normal bright blue. He was online.

"Yo bro."

For a moment Sunstreaker didn't move.

"Ouch."

Sideswipe laughed. Sunstreaker turned his head to glare at his brother.

"Seriamente, questo realmente dolore. Prowl di Slaggin, bastardo."

A loud clang echoed through the room as a tool bounced off Sunstreaker's helm. He yelped, throwing Ratchet a betrayed glare.

"You deserved what you got," Ratchet snarled as he turned to face the golden brother.

"You both are in serious trouble. Kidnapping and assault? What was going _through_ those glitched processors of yours?!"

"Non lo ha danneggiato quello difettoso. Non c'era nessun mio difetto il brat umano debole."

"He has a Grade III concussion, two broken ribs and broken Femur in his right leg! You and Sideswipe have been on this planet long enough to know how to handle humans. Any of those injuries had the potential to deactivate him. You two slaggers are lucky he'll be fine, or I would have turned you both into a matching pair of roto rooters!"

Sunstreaker sat up, rubbing the side of his face where Prowl's fist had hit him.

"Il Prowl colpisce il fratello duro grazioso."

Sideswipe closed his helm and slipped off his table to walk over to his brother. Ratchet was huffing and puffing as he worked himself into a fit, which meant Sideswipe would rather not have him messing around in his head. He focused on his brother instead, looking him up and down. Other than a few dings in his armor he looked ok. Ratchet had already fixed the torn wires and the worst of the damage caused by Ironhide.

"Yeh, well what you said was pretty harsh."

Sunstreaker lowered his head, not meeting his brothers' optics. He already knew what Sideswipe and Ratchet had talked about. What one Twin knew, the other did as well.

"Era ancora stupido. Era stupido una scelta. Non dovrebbe moiré per loro."

."

Sunstreaker paused. "Non erano degno lui che ottiene ucciso."

Sideswipe glanced at Ratchet. The medic had turned away from the brothers to study the ruined part in his hands, giving them a moment alone.

"I don't disagree. It was stupid. But maybe…I don't know."

Sunstreaker stood up, leaning heavily on his brother for a moment until his systems compensated.

"Alright già ottenga fuori di me lo slagger. State ottenendo le striature rosse sulla mia vernice."

He pushed a laughing Sideswipe off of him.

"Complaining about the paint already. You'll be fine."

"I wouldn't say that. Prime wants a word," Ratchet interrupted, smirking evilly to himself as he said it.

"Fuck."

"Scopata."

99999999

He woke up hurting…again. But he didn't hurt as much as before. That was a good sign.

Miles groaned and forced his eyes open. The room swam above him, making actually seeing anything impossible. He slammed his lids shut again and moaned.

Why did he hurt, again?

Where was he?

Was he in an accident? Or did Trent kick his ass again?

Beep…beep…beep…beep…

He carefully cracked open one eye. After fighting off the wave of dizziness and vertigo, he finally dared opening the other to look up at a plain gray ceiling. Glancing to his left, he saw a machine with a little squiggly line going across its screen, that's what was making the beeping sound.

_Oh. Heart monitor. Am I in a hospital? _

He stared back up at the ceiling. Something about it didn't strike him as hospital type ceiling. It was too high, for one. The ceiling was easily 30 ft above him, dark gray with what looked like metal sheets bolted together. It looked very sturdy, like survive a tornado sturdy, but it just didn't strike him as a hospital type.

After a moment of studying gray metal, Miles turned his attention to what he was lying on. It was definitely a bed, comfortable and covered in a nice clean blanket. He had an IV line in the back of his hand, it itched like a mother.

All that hinted at hospital, but…

He frowned, head still feeling fuzzy. He was having trouble remembering anything. Did he hit his head or was it the drugs? He felt drugged up. The warm and floaty kind of drugged up. He had a feeling that the slight pain, the annoying poke in his side would hurt a whole lot more if he hadn't been given something good. Oh and did he mention his hand itched too..

Damn IV.

He looked over to his right, trying to piece together what had happened and where he was.

Sam was sitting in a chair, head hanging down as he snored softly.

Miles did a double take.

_Sam. _

Miles felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Sam was ok. Sam was here.

Tears stung his eyes. He felt like he might cry. He had missed his bro so much.

He studied the other teen while he slept. Maybe the Army thing was true. Sam was wearing desert fatigues and he looked a lot more fit than when Miles had last seen him. He had some strange scratches on his arms, too. Like a big ass cat or something had gotten at him. Where had Sam been, was he really at boot like his mom had said?

"Click murrrr."

Miles jerked his head toward the strange noise which had sounded alarmingly close to him.

Light blue eyes stared at him literally inches from his head.

His heart jumped in his chest as he forced himself to freeze, hoping not to entice the strange…strange and very _alien_ looking robot thing to attack him.

_Where is Sam Witwicky?_

Memories of someone asking that, in a thick accent, drifted through his mind.

_Candy Apple Red _he thought in horror as he suddenly remembered EVERYTHING!

Was one of those robots outside or something! Was Sam a prisoner now too? Oh god what was going ON!?

The one staring at him was a lot smaller than the two that had chased him. Shorter than he was, even, and very thin. It looked fragile. It made the strange clicking noise at him again, sounding oddly…curious.

And for some strange reason, Miles found himself relaxing.

Yes, it looked really strange - even stranger than the red and yellow robots (at least they had recognizable parts on them) but something on this thing's face seemed…well, _gentle_.

He wet his lips before swallowing. "H…Hi.." His voice cracked a bit. The thing titled his head as something behind the glass of its eyes clicked and moved.

Out of the corner of his eye, something moved to his left. _Oh god another one!_

He started to panic although he forced himself to sit still. The second one was bigger, although not by much. It had red eyes which kind of freaked him out.

"Squeak."

Ok that wasn't a sound he would have identified as these weird ass things making. He turned his head, blinking in shock at the tiny white rat which was moving along the red-eyed ones' shoulders. It was moving in and out of gaps in the thing's metal skin, little nose twitching as it sniffed the air. It looked tame, at ease with the strange metal creature.

The robot turned its head toward the sound and much to Miles' shock actually rubbed noses with the rat. Well, it would have been rubbing noses, if the robot had one. Its face looked like a mask instead of a nose and mouth.

"Grimlock…what are you doing? You'll give Miles a heart attack if he wakes up," Sam said suddenly, sounding half asleep.

"Heart attack already in progress…" Miles said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. Granted, he wasn't nearly as freaked out as he had been before. Something about watching this little robot nuzzling a rat really detracted from the fear factor.

"MILES!" He watched as Sam pushed the robot away.

"Yo bro." Miles studied his bro closer. Now that the other was awake, he could see how Sam tired looked. He had dark heavy bags under his eyes and his skin looked a bit pale.

"Thank Primus. How are you feeling?"

"Freaked."

"Ok, that's a given." Sam titled his head, rubbing the back of it as he made an awkward introduction. "Um, this is Grimlock, and that's Swoop."

Miles glanced at the two robots, Most of his fear melted away when a strange purring sound erupted from the red-eyed one called Grimlock and the robot leaned heavily against Sam. It was obviously a sign of affection, and it didn't escape Miles' notice how Sam almost seemed to melt at the sound.

"What are they?"

Sam smiled, seeing amazement and curiosity replacing the fearful look in his friend's eyes. "Baby aliens."

"Babies?"

"Yeah, they're only like 4 months old. The right word is 'sparklings', actually."

Miles reached out with the hand not strapped to an IV. The smaller blue-eyed robot, Swoop, let him touch his arm. He was amazed at how 'alive' the metal felt. It was warm and he could feel the vibrations of things inside the baby-bot moving. Swoop made noises at him and mirrored the touch as if he was exploring something new and fantastic as well.

That had Miles laughing as he realized this baby-bot was as fascinated by him as he was of it.

"Dude, what in the world is going on?" Sam didn't seem like he was scared. So that probably took out the prisoner scenario. He obviously knew these two baby aliens and seemed friendly with them. The bigger one, Grimlock, was still leaning against him. Sam teetered slightly from its weight before regaining his balance.

"I guess I should start from the beginning. You probably remember when I bought that piece of crap Camaro..."

Almost an hour later, Miles was staring at Sam, mouth hanging open as he wrapped up.

"Oh my _GOD_!" he finally managed to get out. He stared a few more minutes, long enough that Sam wiggled uncomfortably in his seat. "Dude, you're like…like…a _hero_!"

Sam opened his mouth to argue. He wasn't a hero. He just did what he needed to do to survive.

"NO, you're more like a hero's hero!"

"What?"

"Seriously, dude. How many people have literally, in every sense of the word SAVED the freakin world!!"

Light suddenly flooded the room, blinding Miles. Covering his eyes he hissed softly to himself. So very much light - did they just open a garage door or something? It was way more light than any human-sized door would allow in.

"Sam, I am finished repairing the Twins. They will be by later to apologize…Oh, the boy is awake."

Miles gulped, still blinded, but he recognizing the metallic overtone of the voice that was speaking. It didn't have an accent like Candy Apple and Sun Gold did, but it was definitely the same.

The door closed behind the voice, allowing Miles to finally regain his sight. He blinked, trying to get the spots to disappear. He then rubbed his eyes and turned toward the voice.

He saw _shins_.

He looked up - and then further up - to see a lime green and very stern looking face. It wasn't as big as Red and Gold, but it was still huge. The heart monitor machine rattled out his near panicked terror as the beeps raced across the screen.

"Sweet Jesus."

Sam patted his shoulder. He then made sure he had Miles attention, looking him straight in the eye. He smiled, telling him silently that everything's ok.

"The boy's name is _Miles_, Ratchet."

The large robot tilted its head, blue eyes flickering. "Noted. Vitals are good. Do you feel any pain?"

"I uh - huh?"

Sam staged whispered to him. "Ratchet's a medic. And you get the honor of being his first human patient."

Somewhere in the back of Miles mind, something went _eeep_!

"I uh…no. Not really. My side hurts a bit. Not bad though," Miles muttered, mind reeling. A giant alien robot who was also a doctor? He wondered if he should be honored or just plain freaked to be this thing's first human patient.

"Actually, Sam," the robot said, obviously hearing Sam despite the whispering, "_you_ were my first human patient."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not sick."

Ratchet gave Sam such a put-upon look that Miles snickered.

Miles wondered at the camaraderie, at how calm and collected Sam was. He didn't even seem to mind the fact that a building-sized robot, something that could step on him by accident was standing right next to him.

"Dada." The voice took Miles by surprise. It was high pitched and kind of weird sounding. Definitely nothing a human child would produce. However, he could clearly make out the word.

The robot Ratchet looked startled as well, frowning as he looked at the baby robot which had spoken. Swoop lifted his arms, clearly wanting to be picked up. Ratchet hadn't uploaded any creator programming yet, however he found himself unable to deny the simple request.

"What did you call me?" he asked as Swoop climbed onto his shoulder.

Sam burst out laughing. "He called you Dada." When Sam saw that Ratchet didn't get it he elaborated. "You know, Dad, Dada, Daddy. Pops. Father."

Ratchet made a sound that sounded a bit like a sigh and decided to ignore the human word for now. "Young man."

Miles looked up and up at the dizzying large robot. "I uh ya?"

"I suppose you have some questions."

"Yeah," Miles said, surprised. He didn't actually think they would tell him anything.

"You are currently at the Autobots base. The US government has allotted one of their old bases as well as a sizeable portion of land surrounding it as Cybertronian foreign soil. Sam, due to medical reasons, is restricted from leaving. However, he was worried enough about you that he convinced me and Prime to allow you to be transferred here. You have two broken ribs, a concussion and a broken leg. If you have any dizziness or feel odd, please tell me."

"Alright. Uh - what do you mean by foreign soil?"

Sam answered for the large robot which had turned its attention to the babies. "You're basically in another country within America. You know, kind of like a foreign embassy. Err - something like that at least. The government soldiers still have some power here, but Prime is the big boss bot."

"Big boss bot? Bigger than him?"

"Oh yeah." Sam's smile was slightly evil.

"Oh god." Miles shook the image of what this 'big' boss bot might look like and instead focused on another question as it popped up into his head. "Medical reasons?"

Miles glanced at Sam. If he was sick that would explain why Sam disappeared so suddenly. Although Miles had to wonder what was wrong with him. He looked a bit tired but not sick. Then again, they were talking about aliens here, god only knew what someone could catch.

"I'm not sick!" Sam snapped annoyed. Ratchet didn't let this go.

"You are having hallucinations and passing out."

Sam crossed his arms looking stubborn. "They are NOT hallucinations."

"Sam. They are."

"NO they Ain't Prove It!"

Miles snickered at the bad impression of one of their shared favorite comedian. The robot's eyes narrowed, the blue flickering again.

"You are not helping your case, Sam."

Sam growled. The baby-bot still beside him instantly imitated the noise. The sound was surprisingly deep, resonating through the air to make Miles teeth vibrate, and if the sparkling wasn't obviously playing around it might have been kind of scary.

The robot Ratchet titled his head, strange lights coming from his eyes to run over the sparkling. "Hmm."

"What?" Sam asked after giving Grimlock a surprised look.

Ratchet didn't answer, instead changing the subject.

"Miles, you should consume some fuel. If you feel up to it, you can move around Due to your ribs you will be short of breath. Do NOT put any weight on your leg. Do not leave the med bay and do _not_ strain yourself!" The last words were spoken so forcefully Miles gulped and instantly nodded.

"Yes sir."

Sam laughed. "Smart guy."

Ratchet nodded and turned to leave. He still had a lot to do. Ironhide, while he hadn't gotten hit had taken a few good sized dents, no doubt he'd be bitching about the scratched paint. Slagger was almost as bad as Sunstreaker when it came to his finish.

"Hit the red button if his status changes," Ratchet warned Sam as he opened the Cybertronian sized door. Swoop was still on his shoulder enjoying the ride and Grimlock was not far behind in following his creator and brother.

"Soooo….Satan's Camaro huh?" Miles frowned to himself, thinking over what Sam had told him. "So what about Sun Gold Yellow and Candy Apple Red? Are they Decepi-something's or what?"

Sam blinked confusion written in his face. Suddenly comprehension hit and he smacked his forehead.

"OH you mean the Twins. No, they're Autobots. I haven't met them yet, but apparently they're troublemakers. Sideswipe's the red one, Sunstreaker's yellow."

Miles snorted, still feeling the painful stiffness in his body and bones. "They suck."

He made a face and then pointedly scratched at the IV in his hand. "They really, _really_ suck."


	13. Then and Now

-1AN: Sorry if some things come out weird. The editing thing my beta does is acting weird. Er actually its probably my computer than than anything he's done. I tried to catch everything but I'm sure I probably missed a thing here or there. Shouldn't take away from the story anyway.

FYI: I have discovered a new transformers love. I have fought against it, slammed it and turned my nose at it…but no more. sigh I absolutely love Transformers Animated.

I saw the first episode when it came one way back when and hated the look of the humans so much I didn't watch anymore. Well about two weeks ago I bought the Blitzwing toy. Hehe I love it, just something about the styling of these toys are amazing. I also got Prowl and Black Arachinia. I'm serious these toys look great! Much better than some of the crapper and cheap looking stuff out there.

Well buying the toys got me interested in the cartoon again. I bought the first season.

I actually like the style of the show now. I like the characters, Wreck-gar was hilarious, Jazz is awesome, Prowl took a bit getting used to but he's cool to (I will though bitch at the absolute butchering of Mixmaster and Scrapper. Those two are not constructicons)

I'm just really surprised at myself. I even like the little girl Sari. She's cute and funny.

I can only see this show getting better as seasons come and go, and urge anyone that's not seen it to give it a chance. Hell at the very least watch episode 20 'Garbage in Garbage out' its got Wreck-gar…and even features a 'Spike and pregnant Carly'.

How can you go wrong with that.

_(Then)_

"Bring it choo glitches! I'll rip out your ports n' shove them up y' tailpipes!"

Ironhide became aware something was wrong outside when he heard the familiar clangs and screeches of a scuffle.

He groaned deep in his chest, gears grinding in frustration. Primus, why him? Really,

why did his spark choose such an aggrevating path in life?

He glanced at the hopeful interviewees, three pairs of bright blue optics looking back at him, slightly frightened from the fight outside. They were young, barely past their first upgrades, and all sent here by creators hoping with all their sparks that Ironhide would accept their sparklings. He was the best of the best, and most bots spent a lot of credits just to get him to look at what they had.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

Ironhide turned sharply, trusting the younglings would keep out of trouble long enough for him to break up the fight. He doubted they would do anything wrong; they were all. too young for a lot of the more aggressive programming to have started.

The scene that met his optics once he stepped outside didn't surprise him.

"_Figures…_"

Ironhide crossed his arms, letting his anger settle nice and hot in his spark as he watched his students Winger and Crossbow pick on some stray.

The two were large, bulky, strong - but not too smart. But they were good enough, he supposed. They would probably be sent off world to work at the mines. It was a good enough life, hard labor, but rewarding, and if they did well it could even be lucrative.

He had rather hoped they would turn out to be warriors, not just the usual run-of-the-mill grunts. He had hoped that their size and strength hinted at something a bit more, once they started to mature.

Not even close.

Ironhide shuttered his optics. The High Lord Protector usually snatched the true warriors up pretty quickly, sending them to train with the Caregivers he chose.

It annoyed Ironhide a bit, he'd been training warriors for thousands of vorns. And in his time he'd trained some of the best fighters out there, including the present Prime and Protector.

So why was the Protector suddenly so picky about whom the future warriors, especially the Seekers, went to train with?

Tuning out that unsettling thought, Ironhide focused on the brawl in front of him. His students were fighting with a very small, silver sparkling. They were easily three times the younger bot's size, but that didn't seem to stop them from trying to beat the slag out of him.

"Too slow, ya ingrates! Yer creator 's a slag suckin' sarion!"

Ironhide narrowed his optics; it was apparent that although his students were bigger, stronger, and better trained, the little one was literally running circles around them. Winger and Crossbow just couldn't seem to catch or even land a hit on the small bot, the dents and rips in their own armor telling Ironhide the same wasn't true for the silver stray.

"You little glitch, I had enough of this! See you in the Pit!"

Weapons whirled to life, although Winger never got the chance to use them. Ironhide had seen enough and stormed, up behind his student smacked the blue youngster hard enough to dent his helm.

"ENOUGH! You two, back to your assignments!"

Both literally seemed to shrink under his harsh optics.

"You got time to brawl? Then you got time to clean the practice fields. Get to it!"

The two knew better than to even think about opening their mouths. With a speed they should have been showing in the fight, they bolted toward the training fields.

Ironhide clicked to himself in disappointment. What was it with this latest generation, all talk but no struts to back it up.? Not even a rebellious look from either of them…

After a moment, he turned toward the stray. He didn't recognize the youngling, and wondered who his Caretaker was.

"I apologize…"

Ironhide started only to be cut off as the silver youngling rounded on him.

"Choo wan' some of this TO?! I'll kick ya aft from here ta the second moon! I don' care how big ya t'ink ya are!"

Ironhide blinked, surprised at the mouth on this one. Processors struggled to place the accent; it sounded vaguely like Aronian region, but slurred. He wondered if the bot had a slight speech impediment, or perhaps it was just slang;, some of the poorer regions tended to do that.

"Relax. I was going to apologize for my students."

The stray pouted in anger, his blue optics flickering wildly.

"Cho a Caretak'r?"

"Yes."

The stray looked away, crossing his arms. Ironhide had the distinct impression he was embarrassed, or perhaps just uncomfortable.

"Ya well they deserved t' aft woopin. Just 'cause I'm small don' mean no'ing."

Ironhide chuckled. N, no doubt Winger had mouthed off on the little mech's size.

"Who's your Caretaker?"

It wasn't often someone could stand against his students, especially given two to one odds.

"What's it to ya?"

"Just wanted to speak with him. You're a bit sloppy."

He wondered if the Caretaker was young himself. It would explain why such an obvious talent lacked the finesse of a well-trained sparkling. It was a pity, really. This mini bot had a lot of potential.

"I ain't sloppy. It ain't my fault!"

the sparkling fairly screamed at him, suddenly more upset than when he'd been fighting. Ironhide lifted his hands, trying to calm him down. What was _that_ about?

"Calm down, brat -. "

When the stray continued to scream at him, the insults becoming more and more coarse, Ironhide decided he had had enough.

So he did what he always did with his own students. Pounded some sense into the idiot's processors by pounding on his head.

The sparkling fell to the ground, clutching his dented helm and making soft clicks of pain.

"There…now tell me who your Caretaker is. I think I need to have a word with them. This is unacceptable behavior, young one!"

The sparkling clicked a few more times before turning burning bright blue eyes up at Ironhide.

"I ain't got one, ok! There, choo happy?!"

A sick feeling settled into Ironhide's tanks. Every sparkling had a Caretaker. It was how one learned to function in society. A Caretaker protected and taught sparklings until they were mature enough to function on their own.

This stray could speak, he moved well and could fight, so he was definitely old enough for placement. So why didn't he have a Caretaker?

"Why not?"

The stray looked up at Ironhide but said nothing. Ironhide hummed to himself, not liking his sudden silence.

"I got t' go.,"

the stray muttered, but, Ironhide wouldn't hear any of it. Quicker than the silver sparkling expected, the old warrior reached out and grabbed onto the ring of his neck armor.

The sparkling cried out, wiggling and fighting for all he was worth, but Ironhide had too good of a hold.

"Stop fighting, you little slagger!"

Hefting him up to eye level, Ironhide frowned to himself. Something was off with this sparkling. Something he knew he should be seeing right away but wasn't…

A more in depth scan made his spark sink as comprehension hit Ironhide like a plasma bolt to the head.

"How old are you?" 

Ironhide had been thinking the silver bot was in his second upgrade. That's what his size would suggest. But…he was talking too well, moving too well…he was older than that. A _lot_ older, Ironhide just hadn't seen it before, he'd just assumed, because of the bot's size.

"Primus."

Ironhide whispered.

"You're in your 4th upgrade, aren't you?"

The sparkling stopped struggling, and speaking just as softly said.

"5th."

No wonder he didn't have a Caretaker.

Ironhide dropped the bot and stepped back, studying the not -so -young sparkling. He was so very tiny, if he was in his fifth upgrade then when full grown he would only reach a

Mini bots middle. That was no't normal, that was a defect…why was he even allowed to get this old?. His creators should have gotten the hint and deactivated him when they couldn't find a Caretaker willing to teach him.!

"Take me to your creator NOW!"

Fear spiked through the sparkling. Ironhide could see it in his optics. It made him all the more angry. These creators were being selfish. If they had deactivated this sparkling when they should have, then he wouldn't have known fear. Now, however, he was old enough to understand what had to happen to defective bots. It was just how things were, it was law, it was best for everyone. Cybertron simply could not support defective bots.

"No."

Ironhide growled and reached for the sparkling again. This time, however, he proved faster and darted away from a hand nearly as big as he was.

"Slagger. You think this is a game? What are you going to do, huh? No Caretaker will take you in. You have no future. Your creators should have seen that! They need to be reprimanded!"

"And me deactivated right?!"

The silver stray jumped and showing surprising agility clambered up the side of a wall well out of Ironhide's reach.

Ironhide let his cannons spin. If need be he'd shoot the little slagger down. He didn't want to cause the youngling pain, but what needed to be done had to be done.

"Have you ever thought as to the future you might have?"

"Bettr'n no future."

The silver bot glared down at Ironhide.

"Choo r' a hypocrite. Yer all hypocrites, ever' last one of choo! Slaggers!"

Ironhide felt a flare of anger race through his circuits. However he forced himself to remain calm. He was a Caretaker, _THE_ Caretaker actually. He was the best on Cybertron. He would not be goaded by a defective spark clinging to what little it had.

"Choo y'self said I was good! I beat your wards! Kicked their afts! Why do I gotta die?! No'ting wrong with me!"

Ironhide couldn't deny what he had said before. It gave him pause…he'd thought there was a lot of potential in that bot. But…no, he was a defect. He was simply too small. He would probably die by his final upgrade anyway.

"Choo all think y're Primus! Sayin' who lives, who dies! I gotta right ta live like any o' you! I _won'_ die! And I won' let my creator suffer fer lettin' me live! I'll slag choo myself 'fore it comes ta that!"

With that the youngling launched himself at Ironhide. Ironhide cursed, turning to avoid the sharp claws, memory of his students' wounds telling him that they were effective.

The defect was fast, Ironhide would give him that. But he was sloppy. He didn't know anything about fighting that wasn't picked up off the streets. And if that youngling thought that sloppy attacks and dirty fighting was going to beat Ironhide, he had something to learn.

With a savage roar, Ironhide lashed out with an arm. He wouldn't use his cannons;, doing so might be fatal. Ironhide didn't listen to the voice that said _why not, we're going to have him deactivated anyway__?__ - __why not let him die fighting?_

He didn't hold back as he let his arm, easily twice the length of the youngling, struck home with a loud clang. The defect was hit hard, hard enough to fling him across the street and into the neighboring building.

After a long moment, the sparkling groaned and tried to get up, but ultimately failed as he collapsed back to the ground.

He was, however, still online, which surprised Ironhide a bit. He'd offlined students far larger and tougher with a blow like that before.

"What's your name?"

He asked suddenly, sick of thinking of this one as just youngling or stray.

The youngling shivered, blue liquid seeping out from a busted line somewhere in his torso.

"…Jazz."

Ironhide's cannons whirled as he slowly approached. As a Caretaker of his rank, it was well within Ironhide's rights…no, his duty, to deactivate defective sparklings. It was expected of him. Where would Cybertron be, if it was forced to carry the weight of those unable to carry their own?

Jazz looked up at Ironhide, obviously terrified, but he didn't look away. He met Ironhide's stare with a hard one of his own.

He was scared of dying, but he wasn't scared of Ironhide.

Jazz recoiled as the old warrior fired his weapons. Debris fell down on his head, but the stray didn't cry out. He didn't scream or click hoping to appeal to Ironhide's Caretaker programming.

Ironhide lowered his cannon, as Jazz shivered on the ground, the wall above him still smoked from the heat of his weapon.

This stray…this _Jazz_ was something else.

And just like that, something clicked in his CPU. Suddenly, instead of seeing how small the sparkling was , he saw everything _else_. Things he'd noticed before he realized how old Jazz was. This might work…_if_ the sparkling proved to be as good as first impressions led him to hope.

Ironhide groaned, wondering what kind of smelting pit he was getting himself into.

The Lord High Protector was going to blow a gasket when he learned about this - although Prime would more than likely be proud of his teacher. Optimus had always preached that every bot had the right to live.

"Take me to your creators."

Jazz snorted, although he seemed surprised as the Pit that he wasn't a smoking pile of slag yet.

"Little slagger. Just tell me where they are."

"What, so choo can 'urt 'em!?"

Ironhide rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit. he'd inadvertently picked up from Optimus while training him.

"No, so I can make this official."

Jazz uncurled from the protective ball he was in.

"What?"

Ironhide sent a burst of data at the youngling. Jazz stiffened, eyes going white in ultimate shock. It was a program... one that a Caregiver gave to a youngling they had accepted. It affected a sparklings' and Caretakers' programming, influencing the younster to obey and learn, and the Caretaker to shelter and protect. It created a link between the two that, in rare cases, could last the life of the both parties.

"Choo…"

Ironhide chuckled at the little sparkling's shock.

"Why so surprised? Didn't you say you deserved a chance? Well… I'm giving you one. My name is Ironhide."

"Ironhide…"

Jazz's optics got wider if that was even possible. His optics seemed ready to drop out of his face.

"Ironhide…choo are the Prime and Protector's trainer!?"

Ironhide nodded. While a lot of mechs didn't know what he looked like, almost everyone knew his name.

"This will not be easy. Besides the obvious, you're also technically too old. But I happen to like challenges."

Ironhide sent a heated glare at the small bot.

"But I expect you to work hard. Slack off even a little, and I'll fulfill my duty and recycle your scrawny aft!"

Jazz stood up and Ironhide felt him accept the Caregiver program. For better or worse, Jazz was now his student. It was a good thing Winger and Crossbow were leaving in a few joors; he had a feeling that Jazz would be more than enough for him to handle. He wouldn't accept anymore sparklings until after Jazz graduated.

He really hoped this bot lived up the potential that Ironhide could sense in him. He could get in a lot of trouble for this; he didn't think he would be punished, but it was always a possibility.

"I live t'is way.…"

_(Now)_

Ironhide lowered his head, unable to look at the broken and dead body of his best student.

It wasn't right. Mechs weren't supposed to die so young. Jazz had so much more ahead of him in life. It wasn't _right_ that Ironhide should outlive his student.

"You slaggin glitch. I told you I wouldn't accept any slack. So what makes you think dying is ok?"

His hands clenched tightly, cannons whirling as he tried to smother the absolute spark -numbing pain threatening to rise up and choke him.

This wasn't the first student he'd lost, but it was by far the worst. The two before Jazz, Crossbow and Winger, had been offlined long ago. That had been bad, but nothing like this.

What made Jazz's death beyond unbearable was the fact that he was the last causality of the war. He'd died moments before Megatron, and thus died moments before the war was over for good.

Now Ironhide wasn't stupid. The remaining Decepticons wouldn't just lay down and declare peace, but the war itself was over. Without the Allspark and without Megatron, there was no war.

"You were barely an adult when the war started. Probably didn't remember anything of peace."

Ironhide clenched his fists again.

"An' now you'll never see it.…"

Reaching out, the old warrior gently traced the edge of Jazz's visor. A gift from his creators, when he had graduated from under Ironhide's care.

"I just hope…"

Ironhide paused. What was it the humans said?

"That you can rest in peace?"

Yes, that was it. Humans wished for their dead to rest in peace. Sounded good to him, peace was good. He hoped with all his spark that whatever lay beyond death, Jazz was finally happy.

"Ironhide?"

Ratchet's quiet voice broke in as he walked into the medbay, scans brushing over the warrior.

"What?"

he snarled, not happy at the interruption. The medic stiffened, not expecting such a hostile greeting, but he didn't leave.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are cleared for duty."

Ironhide grunted, not really giving a flying rat's ass. He grinned to himself, humans had the best sayings.

"They're being debriefed by Prime. I believe he plans to leave you with babysitting duty."

"They aren't sparklings! I ain't their keeper anymore!"

A loud clang was Ratchet's answer.

"Ow!"

Ironhide rubbed his abused helm, giving Ratchet and his wrench an evil glare.

"No, you are no longer their Caretaker, but they still need you. Jazz…"

"They _INSULTED_ Jazz!"

"Don't make me hit you again."

Ironhide eyed the wrench warily as he took a step back from the glowering medic.

"You, Ironhide, should know better than anyone that they didn't mean it. Jazz was all they had the closest thing to a creator they ever had! They're hurting just as much as you!"

Ironhide paused, glanced at the grey dead body lying on a metal table…but

Sunstreaker's words kept echoing through his CPU.

"No."

"No?"

"You heard me. I don't want a slaggin thing to do with those Twins."

With a snarl, Ironhide turned away from the medic.  
"There are reasons twins are deactivated at creation. Shouldn't ever have let Jazz talk me into protecting them."

Ratchet straightened, his engine revving unsteadily, ocked to his core at the slag Ironhide was sprouting.

What he said wasn't untrue. Twins were considered the ultimate defect. The instant a spark started to split, it was destroyed. Twins, if allowed to grow past the split almost always died as sparklings. And if they survived to adulthood, they almost always had severe physiological problems.

The old ways of thinking was that killing them was better for everyone, including the twins themselves.

Ratchet hadn't been there from the beginning, so he didn't know everything about these rare twins. Jazz had somehow stolen them from their creator before they be euthanized. He had then somehow convinced Ironhide to use his status and power to protect them, and then to take them on as his students.

He'd first met them before the war, when Sunstreaker had been attacked and had been brought to the hospital he directed...

_(Then)_

Ratchet was in a mood. Oh Primus, was he in a _mood_.

Several of the older nurses and residents moved away from him after a single glance at his face as he swept by.

Today was _supposed_ to be his day off. He _had_ planned on finally getting some recharge, maybe getting totally smashed on some high grade.

However, _someone_ had decided to call him and tell him they had a problem. Apparently some Caretaker was terrorizing his staff, threatening to shoot down the whole hospital.

Primus. Ratchet _hated_ Caretakers. Overprotective glitches, with the firepower to do some serious damage before logic overcame their strong protection programming. Why they needed such spowerfully overclocked systems in this time of peace was beyond Ratchet's logic.

Down right stupid, causing more injuries than they saved.…

Ratchet focused on his surroundings, optics glowing brightly as he heard what had to be the Caretaker. Downright slaggin loud was what he was, this was no place for such behavior, this was an ICU for frag's sake!.

Turning the corner, Ratchet took in the scene.

A very large black mech loomed in the corridor -, no wonder they'd called him in. He was an imposing looking fellow with a massive cannons on each arm. And he was screaming at one of Ratchet's nurses, a. small light blue femme named Mist who looked scared enough to deactivate from fear alone.

Behind the large caretaker was a small silver bot. Ratchet paused as he reset his scanners, confused at the readings.

This bot was small, about half the size of a mini bot, yet he was completely grown.

Strange.

What was even stranger was the red colored sparkling resting in the silver bots' arms.

It was young, barely more than a new spark.

Ratchet flinched at the loud pitiful wailing coming from the young one, it plucked unpleasantly at his programming and. Ratchet could only imagine what the sound was doing to the Caretaker's systems. Nothing the silver bot was doing seemed to help it.

Surely the silver one wasn't the young ones creator? He seemed barely into his final upgrade himself!

"What in the PIT is going on here!?"

Ratchet growled with all the deadly force of an approaching storm.

Everyone, even the sparkling literally stopped in their tracks and turned to look at him.

"Sir!"

The nurse looked relieved.

"This Caretaker is causing trouble. He's already punched one of the doctors. He's a menace!"

Ratchet crossed his arms and frowned at the femme. The smile on her face was way too smug for Ratchet's comfort; something more than an over protective Caretaker was going on here.

He turned toward the Caretaker, who looked absolutely furious. Big and black and vaguely familiar, Ratchet tried to place a name with this face.

"Chief medical officer Ratchet. This is _my_ hospital! Who the fraggin Pit are you to threaten my nurses?"

"Class A-2 Caretaker, Ironhide."

"Jazz."

Ratchet noticed the small mech didn't have a title. Which meant he was either still under training himself, or he had just been released and hadn't found a job yet. Which brought up the question again - who was the sparkling's creator? Actually, the newspark was too young to have a Caretaker, so why was Ironhide even here? The sparkling's creators should have been the ones to bring him in if the young one was injured.

"Ironhide?"

That was a mild surprise. Ironhide was a well known and respected Caretaker. Known for being very hard, but very successful with his students.

Far too many questions, and no one was giving up any answers. It was pissing him off.

"Mind telling me why you're terrorizing my staff?"

Ironhide's optics blazed white.

"You're _Staff!"_

he sneered the word like it was some disgusting, second rate clogged filter found at the bottom of a swelter pit,

"has refused to fix Jazz's sparkling. And they _refuse_ to give him back so we can find someone who will!"

Ratchet frowned, sending a sharp glare at his nurse. The femme's optics noticeably dimmed, telling Ratchet that what Ironhide said was true. Ratchet glanced back at the silver bot and the sparkling, running several scans. Neither one of them were damaged.

_Jazz's sparkling? No way he's barely out of training himself. _

He studied the scene again, this time noticing the door behind Mist was locked.

_And if I'm guessing right, there must be another sparkling in the room she locked up. Why by the 13 are they refusing to fix an injured new spark, and why the Pit are they not allowing them to see it?_

The entire situation reeked like bad energon.

First things first, it seemed. He needed to see the injury.

"Open the door, Mist."

"But Sir.. - "

"Do _not_ make me repeat myself."

The femme shivered before nodding reluctantly and unlocking the door behind her. Not allowing her or the Caretaker past him, Ratchet slipped into the examination room.

There, lying on the repair table and firmly strapped down was a tiny yellow sparkling.

Ratchet felt his fluids boil at the sighte of the tiny new spark strapped down and still online. It clicked softly in pain, turning pale blue optics in Ratchet's direction. It wasn't wailing like the other was, though Ratchet would have preferred that it had. This lack luster reaction, especially after being locked all alone in a room for Primus knew how long meant it was weak. There was a wound on its left side, just under the arm, gaping and ugly as it sparked and, dripped energon from a broken line.

Snarling in absolute fury , Ratchet whirled on the femme that had dared follow him. She yelped, ducking down in a well- practiced maneuver as Ratchet threw something at her. Everyone in the hospital had become painfully familiar with his aim and temper.

"What is the slagging MEANING of this! This sparkling should never have been left alone! WHY isn't anyone repairing him!?"

"Sir..!"

Still cowering from him, she turned a disgusted look toward the giant mech who had gone wide eyed at Ratchet's violence. Medics were usually extreme peacebots, not able to harm a spark in any way. In all of Ironhide's vorns, he'd never seen such fury in a medic.

"That thing only has half a spark!"

Ratchet paused, his favorite throwing wrench ready to fly. It didn't matter that his target was a femme, - stupidity knew no model or chassis, and thus his wrench didn't discriminate.

"_What_?"

"That thing is a twin. THEY are twins!"

She pointed at the red sparkling in the silver bot's arms. Jazz glared at the nurse, cuddling the red sparkling tighter against him. She smiled as Ratchet didn't utter a sound at first, smug in her confidence that Ratchet would see things her way.

Ratchet's armor began to literally vibrate in sheer, unvoiced FURY! The sound drew everyone's attention back to Ratchet. The femme took a step back.

"YOU…and _everyone in this building_ is in serious - and I mean SERIOUS slag!"

he hissed, the smug smile on the femme's face falling away. She…everyone had been banking on Ratchet backing them up! He was, after all, the only mech with the authority to confiscate a sparkling or to deactivate one.

"I don't slaggin _CARE_ if this sparkling was Unicon himself! He should have been repaired without a thought! There are no if's, and's, or buts! We are REPAIR bots, PERIOD! After a bot is fixed, _then_ we can sit back and think! - _and__ not a slaggin tick before!__._ Now get the Pit out of my sight!"

When the femme didn't move, Ratchet growled out a final word. It terrified her more than the big black bot ever could. _No one_ crossed Ratchet. He was the best and had connections one would think a medical worker simply couldn't have. If he wanted them all fired or even arrested, all he had to do was send the message and every employee here, from attendings to the janitor would be _gone_ and the hospital restaffed before the next recharge cycle. There were even rumors of worse things he could have done to them. Favors he had accumulated with unsavory bots by saving their lives.

"_Out_!"

The femme fled.

"You two!"

Ratchet snarled, startling both black and silver bot badly.

"Get in here and close the door."

They did so quietly, shock written across their features.

Ratchet ignored it as he put the sparkling into stasis. The small yellow one clicked at him softly before going offline. He studied the injury carefully; someone had obviously tried to repair it - not bad, although he could tell it wasn't by someone specialized in repairs. Probably Ironhide, all Caretakers knew how to repair minor injuries. The combination of fragile bodies and clumsiness equaled a lot of minor injuries.

"Ratchet…thank you,."

the silver bot said softly…Jazz, if he remembered right.

"Shut it. I don't want your thanks. What happened?"

he snarled, but the bite had gone out of his voice. Jazz seemed to sense this as he spoke without hesitating.

"I…I turned my back just for a second. Someone attacked Sunstreaker."

"Sunstreaker?"

Ratchet glanced down at the yellow sparkling. He could see metal chips in the paint that would, probably sparkle in the light. It was a nice color, although a bit bright for Ratchet's taste. He preferred calmer colors like his own red and white.

"Fitting. A bit young to be named, though, isn't he?"

Most creators didn't name their sparklings until they were ready for a Caretaker.

"Wasn't sure how long they would live. I thought if they should die, they outta be able to introduce themselves to Primus."

"I'll have to do more scans, but just from looking at that red one, they're healthy."

Ratchet could hear the relieved vent from Jazz's systems.

"What about you?"

He glanced at Ironhide, remembering now. Ratchet had met this mech once before; he'd.been the trainer of the current Prime. He was a first class Caretaker one of the best on Cybertron. It made Ratchet wonder what he would be doing with a defective spark like this. He thought Ironhide would have sided with the femme, if not outright deactivated these twins himself. He had the authority to do so, and no one would have questioned him.

"I came to back up my student."

Ratchet actually stopped working on the sparkling to turn towards them, surprised.

"You haven't even graduated yet?"

Jazz shook his head no.

"I will be soon."

"What the hell are you doing with these two, then? You can't be their creator?"

"No, I didn't create them."

He cradled the red one in his arms gently. The sparkling, despite being so young, looked ridiculously large in the diminutive bot's arms.

He looked up, meeting Ratchet's gaze, and the medic was startled at the emotion he saw in those blue optics.

"I stole them."

Ratchet really couldn't think of what to say. Kidnapping wasn't unheard of, but it was extremely rare. Usually it happened in the upper circles, among bots of influence and power. Or perhaps in the slave trading business.

Neither was true in this case. , Jazz obviously wasn't high class and he was too protective of the sparklings to want to sell them into slavery.

"I'm telling you this…'cause you're helpin' him."

Jazz gazed longingly at the yellow sparkling.

"Ain't no un got the right to say who lives and who dies. It ain't right!"

Ratchet raised on optic ridge as a distinctive accent started to make itself known. Judging from Ironhide's disapproving glare, he'd bet his favorite throwing wrench the big black bot had been working to get rid of it from the moment he'd taken the youngling on. Jazz was simply too upset to care about it right now.

"They are perfect. Nothin' wrong wit' 'em."

Ratchet sighed as he finished the repairs on the little one. It wasn't as bad as he feared. The sparkling had probably just exhausted itself in fighting the restraints; it hadn't been. due to its wounds.

Ratchet sighed to himself. He wasn't stupid; he could guess where this line of thought came from. Jazz was a very small bot, small enough that some would have wanted him deactivated, claiming he was defective. Truth was, other than a Cassetticon or drone, the medic himself had never seen a final- upgrade bot Jazz's size. It was almost ridiculous how small he was.

What a pain in the aft.

"I'll report them as orphans."

Jazz started to protest but Ratchet cut him off.

"Ironhide, if you graduate this student I can have them legally bound to them. He's young , but no one will say anything. I'll personally guarantee that."

Ratchet turned a harsh look at Jazz.

"Are you sure you want this ,youngling? Being a creator, even an adoptive one ain't no energon goodie. It's hard work. Especially once they outgrow you…"

He looked Jazz up and down, a smirk almost reaching his lips.

"Which I also guarantee will happen sooner rather than later."

"Yes."  
Jazz said without hesitation.

"Alright then., Sunstreaker…what's his twin's name?"

"Sideswipe."

"Well, you slaggers, I have a feeling you're all going to give me headaches for vorns to come. Come with me. I'll need your ident codes."

_(Now)_

Ratchet shook his head in a human gesture of disbelief as the memories faded.

"Jazz would be spark broken."

Ratchet didn't look at Ironhide, so he didn't know how the warrior reacted to that.

"Those two…the fact they survived meant _everything_ to Jazz. Those few vorns before the war, he campaigned so hard to save 'defective' sparks.…"

Ratchet sighed. He had somehow gotten roped into Jazz's campaign as a professional opinion. Jazz had been something else, he was just so likeable and manipulative that he could talk you into anything. Even bots discriminative towards him for his size ended up warming up to him. No one could ignore his charm when he decided to lay it on.

Despite that, there had been very few sparks they had managed to save. The Council and those in power were just too set in their ways. Cybertron did not want to change, and at the time, everyone believed things would be as they were forever.

But that campaign had been how Jazz met and impressed Optimus so much. He had become a diplomat under Prime, a position unheard of for one so young. Jazz had gone from nothing to everything -, rags to riches, as the humans would say.

"Don't displace your anger over Jazz's death onto those two."

Ironhide suddenly rounded on Ratchet so quickly that the medic jumped. Optics blazing wide and bright bored into his.

"_You shut your vocalizer!_ I never asked for your opinion!"

"You're only angry because I'm right, you slagger."

Ratchet crossed his arms, refusing to let the larger mech intimidate him.

"Whatever!"

And with that, Ironhide stalked out of the room.

Ratchet sighed . Ironhide was a stubborn old fool. He just hoped neither of the Twins caught wind of this. They had enough pain and guilt to deal with on their own, without Ironhide's misplaced anger piling on top of it.

He would have to speak with Prime. Perhaps Prowl would be better in disciplining the Twins for the meantime, or maybe even Springer. He and the Twins got along well enough, the triple changer had some deep- rooted 'beliefs', but he'd never treated the twins any different because of them.

"Pain in the aft, the lot of you."


End file.
